Fire Light
by sugarcandyaddiction
Summary: "You're not the hero of this story. At least, not mankind's hero." – The past is unchangeable, but the future uncertain. To protect the ones he loves, Ben would sacrifice everything, including his own humanity. Sequel to "First Patrol". Slightly-AU after Season 1.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hello! This is the sequel to "First Patrol", I'm nervous, this is only the second sequel I've ever posted on this site...I usually promise them and never write them. If you haven't read "First Patrol", I highly recommend you do, a lot of things from that story will play heavily into this one, but if you haven't, I try to explain things best I can.

**Summary**: "You're not the hero of this story. At least, not mankind's hero." – The past is unchangeable, but the future uncertain. To protect the ones he loves, Ben will sacrifice everything, including his own humanity.

This story will be limited 3rd person, with dual perspective, flipping from Jimmy to Ben's POV. Usually they alternate chapters, sometimes it will be in chapter. It's fun, I get to play with it, because they boys tend to interpret things very differently.

**Warnings**: Sexuality, language, graphic violence, dark themes, and all that other fun jazz that earn anything an "M" rating. This story does earn an AU tag, it will loosely follow some of the first episodes of season 2 than deviate rather drastically. I will be taking liberties on the sci-fi aspects of the show. Not everything will follow cannon from season 1 either, mainly because I didn't have the time to do the hardcore research I normally do. There are going to be various other pairings in this story, and OCs that will play semi-important roles. I hate that this has to be a warning because of stupid people, but the main pairing of this story is of a homosexual nature, Ben and Jimmy are from the start in an intimate relationship, if you read First Patrol, you would know this. **If pairings of this nature bother you in anyway, feel free to leave now**. You have been warned, I cannot be held responsible if you choose to continue reading, I don't want to hear any griping on the matter, I will tear you apart if you attempt attacking me solely based on my pairing choice. Hell, I'll rip you apart if you piss me off, period. Which leads to my last warning, I am not always a pleasant person, in fact, sometimes I'm downright abrasive (bitchy). If that bothers you, PM me about, we'll go back and forth, it'll be fun. Don't leave a review attacking my person, especially an anonymous one, I will delete it.

This story is dedicated to all the people who read and loved First Patrol, for whom this story would not exist without, namely (and in no particular order): Haley, WhisperMaw, FacePalmer123, Greg, ScarlettLynn, CallMePox, JDMlvr1, Cookie97, 2nd Mass Redneck, Heracratzarism, and wherever he is, Avid.

Disclaimer: If I owned Falling Skies, Jimmy never would have died. Jimmy is dead, therefore I do not own Falling Skies. See what happens when I don't own things? People die. I hope you've all learned your lesson.

Some of you might worry at first that this is a rehash of "First Patrol" story-telling, because I used a similar technique at the beginning, all I got to say is, read it to the end.

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Fire Light

I.

First days of school were always a little disorienting. Kids had to struggle to make that sudden transition from the careless freedom of summer into the structured schedule of fall. Ben Mason didn't have that problem; of course, he maintained a strict regimen everyday regardless of season. His older brother, Hal, on the other hand, was much like the rest of the student masses. He sat in the front seat grumpily because he had to rise before twelve for the first time in three months.

"I don't see why I have to ride along with the squirts to school," Hal complained, "My first class doesn't even start until ten." He was a senior in high school and only had four classes that year.

"Because your father has lectures all day and I'll be at work, so no one will be available to drive you to school," his mother calmly explained. It was the same thing she'd been telling him all morning, he just didn't listen.

"Why can't I just drive you to work and use your car?" Hal demanded, shifting anxiously in the front seat.

Ben peeked up from the book he was reading in the backseat.

"Why don't you just get a job and buy your own car?" he commented cheekily. His mother smirked at him in the rearview mirror.

"What was that?" Hal jeered. He reached back to steal his brother's glasses off his nose.

"Hey, give those back!" Ben shouted, stretching around the seat to try and snatch back the stolen eyewear, but Hal pulled it from reach, struggling against his brother.

"What's the matter, huh? Your dork ensemble not complete without these?" Hal taunted, "You know, Ben, you really got to stop copying dad's fashion sense, he wasn't popular in school either."

"Hal, give your brother his glasses back," his mother chastised and Hal rolled his eyes, relenting, and tossing the glasses casually into the backseat, "And for your information, your father is a very snazzy dresser."

Ben grumbled, reaching for the black-rimmed lenses and fiddling a moment with them in his fingers, before regrettably sliding them back up on his nose and attempting to resettle into his book.

"Mom, anything that requires the word 'snazzy' to describe it, is not cool. And why are you letting him read back there, anyhow, you know it gives him motion sickness?" Hal wondered and then stated firmly, "If he hurls today in class, I'm not picking him up."

Their mother pulled the mini-van into the middle school parking lot and Ben eagerly tore off his reading glasses, tucking them in his jacket pocket, he shoved his book in his bag and tossed open the back door. He ruffled his younger brother Matt's hair beside him, and Matt voiced complaint, attempting to fix his mussed locks. Ben slung his backpack over his shoulders and said a quick good-bye to his mother, ignoring Hal completely, and went to close the door.

"Ben, don't forget your board," his mother called, pointing to where his travel chess board set sat on the backseat. Ben sheepishly gathered the object under his arm, his brother snickering in the front about his being 'such a dork', and hurried up towards the school's front entrance.

Kids were already beginning to gather outside, finding friends from previous years to huddle and catch up with, and exchanging summer stories. Ben hurried inside the building and weaved his way through the crowds towards the library, where he knew he would find his own friends waiting. He ran into a couple of boys and they gave him a reproving once over, as he stammered apology.

"Well, if it isn't Spacin' Mason, watch where you're going loser," one of the boys jeered and Ben repeated his apology, rushing past without looking back.

Inside the library, as predicted, Ben found his friends, five gawky teens gathered around one of the tables, enraptured in a game of chess between Arnie and Lindsey. Ben sidled up next to Hatchet, and murmured greeting, quickly assessing the situation on the board. He gave a low whistle.

"She's got him in five moves," he whispered to Hatchet.

"So long as she doesn't take his bait and move that queen too soon," Hatchet replied.

Hatchet's real name was Edwin Quattlebaum, but he only responded to Hatchet, his screen-name for the massive online role-playing game, Diablo. He had a level forty-seven fighter, which earned him a decent amount of bragging rights amongst their friends. He'd been discussing his recent rune choices with Crumb, or Harvard R. Crumb as the tall, bulbous boy wearing a leather jacket, Pink Floyd Dark Side of the Moon t-shirt and biker boots preferred introducing himself.

Lindsey made her next move and the surrounding teens all made varying noises of astonishment or praise. Lindsey smirked at Arnie who sighed, knowing his king was dead and it was only a matter of playing out the final battle scene, tipped the piece over. Lindsey bumped fists with Marty, the other girl, bulky, sporting more muscle than any of the other gathered teens combined, and garish, she eagerly talked smack to the boys for her best-friend, the soft-spoken willowy victor.

"In your face, in your face, and in your face," Marty exclaimed, then grinning toothily, "Morning, Spacin'."

Ben rolled his eyes and scowled.

"Morning, Mar_tine_," he glumly replied, taking a sick satisfaction in the way Marty cringed at her full-name. He dropped into Arnie's abandoned seat to be Lindsey's next challenger. Lindsey silently re-set the pieces on the board, perking a brow at Ben skeptically.

"You aren't going to use that weak-ass Romanian tower defense again, are you?" she asked coolly, running her hand over her thin blonde pony-tail and whipping it back over her shoulder.

"Just make your first move," Ben replied sharply.

Lindsey picked up one of her pawns, slammed it back on its new square on the board and glared expectant at the boy across from her. Ben thoughtfully assessed the move and smirked, so she was going with that tactic, huh? He plucked up his knight and reset it on the board. For several minutes, they moved their pieces back and forth, each of their turns taking progressively longer. Their friends all watched, entranced.

"I think I see where he's going with this…" Hatchet commented.

"You have no clue where he's going," Arnie responded sharply.

"Wait…wait…what are you doing? None of this makes any sense," Lindsey complained, "I don't understand what you're doing. There's no rationale to these moves. They don't make any sense."

Ben narrowed his eyes at the board. How could they not make sense? It all seemed logical to him. He could see exactly where every piece was going, as though he were watching them move all on their own; peering at them through the veil of time and space. It wasn't a checkered board and they weren't plastic pieces, it was a real battlefield and the pieces were living, breathing beings, fighting for their king. The pawns on one side were six legged creatures; the pawns on the other were smooth faced children just breaching adolescence. Then there were the queens, one looked vaguely like his father sporting a rough-hewn beard, wearing a trench coat and toting a repeater rifle. The other queen…the other looked like…

Ben pulled back from the chess board and stood from the table, shaking his head violently. This wasn't right. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. His heart thundered in his chest, he couldn't draw enough air into his lungs. His friends all watched him in stunned surprise. Lindsey quirked a brow.

"Are you forfeiting?" she wondered snidely.

Ben didn't answer, slinging his pack over his shoulders once more and hastily exiting the library, nearly running headfirst into a group of obnoxiously loud boys, all laughing uproariously. He caught sight of blue and froze, breath catching in his throat for a brief moment as he locked eyes on one particular boy, one that felt so familiar but not.

The strange boy looked away first, never breaking in his stride down the hall, and with his friends he rounded a corner and disappeared. An arm fell over Ben's shoulders and Marty's cheerful face filled his vision.

"What's with you, Spacin'?" she asked, keeping her tone light to hide the worry. He shrugged her arm away.

"I don't know…everything seems wrong," he murmured, trailing down the hall the direction that other boy had gone, Marty followed curiously after, "Did you see him? Did you recognize him?"

"Who 'him'?" Marty questioned.

"That boy…with the blue eyes," Ben explained distractedly, hurrying down the hall and rounding another corner, darting his head back and forth to scour the crowded halls for one more glimpse of that familiar stranger.

"First of all, there are a lot of boys in these halls, and second, you know I don't pay much attention to boys," Marty jokingly replied, then exasperated, she called out," Where are you going, Spacin'? Class is this way!"

Ben turned corner after corner, the hallways seemed to stretch on forever. He felt like he needed to find that boy, as if he might have answers, maybe he could explain the chess board, maybe he could explain why that queen standing behind those six legged creatures looked the way that it did. He turned a final corner and found himself at a dead end, staring at a heavy, beige-colored door. He could turn back around, though he wasn't entirely certain how he'd gotten there, or he could go through the door.

Something told him to go through the door. He put his hand on the knob, gave it a twist, and pushed in.

There wasn't a classroom on the other side, not even a room, just an endless stretch of emerald green field. The sky glistened a purplish, pink; shooting stars rained from the heavens, streaking silver and orange and exploding in the distance.

Walking towards Ben was a girl, young, slender, pretty. Her thin blonde hair framed her face neatly, brushing her shoulders and curling round her chin. She wore a white, lace dress that draped elegantly over her tiny frame and billowed around her. When she was close enough, she looked deeply into Ben's eyes, her own a hazy green gray. She smiled.

"I've been waiting for you," she said, her voice airy, and high-pitched, it sent a shiver up Ben's spine.

"I was looking for someone…" Ben admitted, glancing nervously around, "Where are we?"

"Exactly where we belong," she answered easily. She took his hand in her own; her touch tingled up his arm, as she guided him across the field. Creatures that defied imagination ran rampant around them, and the landscape continued to shift and change into ever more impressive, fantastical arrangements.

"I don't understand," Ben whispered pleadingly, again demanding explanation, "Where are we? What is this place?"

He faltered when he saw them, children, hundreds of them standing in straight lines, row after row, spread out across the rolling fields. They were like him, just like him. He could see it in them, in their eyes, feel it in them, in their thoughts swirling, crashing, against his own.

"No," Ben cried, aghast. He ripped his hand away from the girl, "This is wrong. This is all wrong. It's not meant to be like this!"

"Yes, it is meant to be like this. This is right. This is the proper course of events, our destiny. This is our future, Ben," the girl insisted, reaching her hand towards him, imploring him to join her, "Embrace it."

"I don't understand any of this," he protested, taking several steps back from her, and clutching his head in his hand, "This isn't right! This…and that piece…the chess board…I don't get it. What is it supposed to mean? I don't understand!"

"Yes, you do. You know exactly what it means. You have always known what it means," the girl calmly explained, "You're not the hero of this story, Ben. At least, not mankind's hero."

Ben bolted up from his cot, gasping for air and drenched in sweat. The metal spikes that ran the length of his spine burned white hot and through the darkness he could see they were illuminated a bright blue that, after a moment's time, faded away along with the pain.

He ran his hands over his face and through his hair and gathered his bearings. He was in the tent he usually shared with his brothers, pitched outside of the community center where the human resistance unit he belonged to, the 2nd Massachusetts, had recently set up base camp.

Despite there being more than enough room in the community center to house all the members of the 2nd Mass, people weren't comfortable with Ben sleeping in a common area with them. While no one ever actually voiced complaint, he rather preferred avoiding the dark pointed stares of suspicion that followed him everywhere and simply opted to sleep outside, by himself he insisted when his brothers offered to keep him company.

Fully awake now, and nothing he could do about it, Ben decided to take a run. He exited the tent, sweeping his eyes over the area, taking stock of the few people awake at that hour, wandering around or sitting in groups chatting. Mostly they were fighters; some on patrol, some on watch, and some that just couldn't sleep. He caught sight of Jimmy amongst one of the groups, and his heart skipped a few beats, an unbidden smile crawling into his features. He couldn't help it; the other boy just had that effect on him.

The two had grown close since their first patrol together, what seemed ages ago but may not have been more than a couple months. If there was anyone in the camp that could soothe Ben's restless soul at that moment it was Jimmy and part of him desperately wanted to join the other boy across camp, but the other children that Jimmy was chatting with, mostly civilians around his and Ben's age, caused Ben to stay his ground, keep his distance.

There had been a great shift recently in how the other children in the 2nd Mass treated Ben, a lot of them had abandoned their outward cruelty towards him, and many of them were almost friendly now. Though Ben appreciated the change, he knew it wasn't because they'd come to trust him by any means, more so, they didn't want to incur the wrath of Jimmy. Ben didn't want to burden those children in that small cluster with his presence more than he had to, and he didn't want to deal with their forced kindness either, like a cruel, unusual torture all its own.

Ben stalked out into the darkness, away from the warm crowd slumbering in the community center, the warm glow of the camp fires, and the warm chatter of the fighters. He didn't belong in that warmth any way. He started in a slow jog around the 2nd Mass perimeter, nodding to a couple fighters on patrol in his passing who returned the acknowledgment, stiff nods of their own. He focused on keeping a steady breath and even pace.

Before he had been harnessed by the alien invaders, Ben couldn't run like this. He'd had acute asthma. His mother made him take at least two inhalers everywhere he went, and now he didn't even need one. He moved through the abandoned streets of that small town around the community center with an effortless Olympic track champion speed. He could run like this forever, leave the world behind, and race off into the horizon and beyond. Never stopping, never slowing, the path before him was endless and he could take it anywhere.

Ben could almost feel thankful of the aliens for harnessing him, if only for this, the breath that pumped cleanly in and out of his lungs.

He wasn't sure how long he ran for, perhaps an hour or more, until his body was thickly coated in sweat, his t-shirt clinging to his frame, and hair matted down to his forehead and neck. His body didn't feel sore as it should, the muscles didn't so much scream for relief but, oddly enough, to push on, to keep moving, as if running were the only relief they needed.

In the distance, the night lit on fire, and Ben staggered to a stop between two rows of pastel colored cookie-cutter houses that were all, for the most part, partially-destroyed. His eyes watched the tail of a seeming shooting star streaking across the sky and then crashing past the horizon, blanketing the world in an ethereal glow of red and orange and bright yellow, as blinding and captivating as the sun.

Ben shuddered, glared at the horizon as the light died away. A strange feeling erupted in his chest, a feeling he couldn't explain, a sudden desire like a moth to flame, to follow that path to that fallen star in the distance.

Instead, he used his already damp shirt to wipe away as much sweat from his face as he could manage and started back towards camp. He was still a block away when he heard the distinctive slap of footfall, and faltered, straining his ears to better identify the sound. Another 'bonus' to having been harnessed, Ben's hearing was severely heightened. Some people joked he could hear the enemy coming from a mile away and, though he had never actually tested the range of his new ability, they weren't too far under the mark.

Ben first located all of the patrolling pairs in the area, none of them close enough to be the approaching intruder on his nightly stroll. Whoever it was, however, was heading towards him from the 2nd Mass base camp, so it wasn't an outsider. Though, unfortunately for Ben, that didn't exactly mean it was a friendly. He sighed heavy, hoped for the best and spun round to greet the unknown. He grinned.

As though caught in the midst of an indecent act, Jimmy froze on the spot across the street, those big, beautiful, blue eyes staring owlishly out at Ben, his rifle slung casually over his shoulder.

"Hey," Jimmy called uncertainly after a few seconds of recovery, "What are you doing out here?"

"Nothing," Ben answered, slowly closing the distance between them.

Jimmy swept his gaze reproachfully over Ben, taking in his disheveled appearance.

"You been running?" Jimmy wondered, taking an instinctive step back from the approaching boy.

Ben really hated when Jimmy did that, it only made him want to pursue, and Jimmy hated when he pursued, and it was just this endless cycle of Ben chasing Jimmy, when sometimes Ben just wished Jimmy would give in, and just let himself be caught. But then, of course, where would the fun be in that?

"Maybe. Why?"

"Because…well…you're kind of disgusting right now," Jimmy noted, a hint of tease to his tone. Ben smirked, a devilish glint in his eyes.

"Oh, is that right?" Ben challenged, "So then…you probably wouldn't want me to…do…this."

Ben moved quickly forward, too quickly to be countered, grabbing one arm around Jimmy's neck and dragging the other boy, who valiantly yet failingly struggled against him, into a tight embrace, being certain to crush Jimmy against all the dampest areas of his chest, and rubbing his sweaty face against Jimmy's own.

"Augh, gross! _Ben_," Jimmy groaned, roughly shoving the other boy away. He shook his hands as though to knock the wetness away and wiped disgustedly at his face, complaining heatedly, "You're such an asshole!"

Ben grinned proudly in response. Jimmy shook his head, obviously annoyed, as he continued in his vain effort to 'clean' himself. He muttered incoherent angry phrases under his breath for a few seconds.

Then, after Ben's laughter had long died out, Jimmy asked, or grumbled more like, "Is everything okay with you?"

"Yeah, why?" Ben returned, stretching his arms lazily over his head.

Jimmy stared at Ben a moment, that narrow-eyed glare of his that prickled in Ben a dozen mischievous thoughts. Honestly, if Jimmy didn't want to be harassed so much, he should put more effort into not being such an easy target.

"Because you're running. In the middle of the night," Jimmy pointed out, "Which I'm guessing means you can't sleep. Which typically means you're not okay."

"_You_ never sleep," Ben replied earnestly.

Jimmy folded his arms over his chest and his brow wrinkled dramatically.

"Point and case," he shot back, haughtily, "_I _am not okay. Cut the crap, Ben, what's up?"

Ben shrugged. Jimmy really was no fun when he was in serious grump mode, but then again when was he not in serious grump mode.

"Nothing is going on. I just had a weird dream," Ben explained nonchalant.

Brazenly, he reached a hand out, took hold of Jimmy by those securely folded arms and dragged him begrudgingly forward, gently touching their mouths together and leaving them like that a moment, waiting for the other boy's ever-unpredictable response. Would he continue the fight or would he finally just surrender? Ben never knew when it came to Jimmy and in a strange way that was part of the excitement.

Eventually, Jimmy did surrender, settling into the kiss, though still somehow managing to get his annoyance across even as he unfurled his arms and curled his fingers loosely, tentatively into Ben's t-shirt. Ben shoved his hands into his own pockets and tried not to grin too arrogantly against Jimmy's mouth, it would really piss Jimmy off, but he couldn't help bragging a little by sliding his tongue along the edge of Jimmy's lip.

When they broke apart, Jimmy rolled his eyes and steadily informed Ben, "You're still an asshole," then turned to lead the way back to camp.

"Whatever you say, babe," Ben retorted.

Jimmy stopped dead in his tracks.

"Sweetheart…?" Ben tried again.

Jimmy turned a dangerous look on the other boy.

Ben snapped his fingers, "Honey."

"I have a gun, Ben," Jimmy deadpanned, in that kind of calm voice that usually preceded a serious shit-storm. Ben shrugged sheepishly.

"I was just trying it out," he muttered, falling in step beside Jimmy, their arms brushing nicely against one another as they walked.

Ben contemplated taking Jimmy's hand, just to see how that felt, but decided against it. Jimmy was already irritated, that would probably be the catalyst for a violent reaction. The other boy didn't always take affection well, which was understandable, given what little of his history Ben had managed to pry out. Put in simplest terms, Jimmy wasn't exactly hugged a lot as a child.

After a moment, Ben questioned, "Hey, what do you think that light was earlier?"

"What light?" Jimmy responded disinterestedly.

Ben scrunched his brow, "The one off in the distance, over that way," he gestured back the direction he'd come from, "It was pretty bright. I was sure you could see it from camp."

Jimmy frowned, shaking his head and glancing almost apologetically at Ben.

"There was no light," he said with certainty.

Ben paused, turning back to stare through the distant darkness to the black horizon beyond, his mouth pressed into a thin line and eyes narrowed, focused. His entire body, every muscle, was held tense, his hair stood on end, his senses on a high alert. Something prickled in the back of his mind, something electric, like the crinkling sound of static, a distant white noise. Jimmy stopped a few steps ahead of Ben, glancing concernedly to the other boy.

"What is it?" Jimmy questioned, darting quick glances to the horizon, but mostly keeping his attention tuned on Ben.

"I don't know. Probably nothing," Ben shrugged. He shook his head and smirked grimly at Jimmy, "But I don't like it."

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A/N: Hm...strange things are happening. Let me know what you think! Reviews are always appreciated.

I'll be updating on Sundays. So...see you all next Sunday.

(**Oi...had to repost. I really need to proof these things before I upload, was reading back through and spotted all sorts of mistakes...I mean, mistakes are inevitable but it was ridiculous. Hey, Greg, you reading? Did you still want to beta? I could probably use one of those...not really abundant with the time right now. If not, I'll make do.)


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Ah, I'm so glad so many of you are excited for this sequel. I'm sort of excited too!

Thank you for the reviews, you guys, you all rock.

Beta'd by: Greg, whose invaluable input gave you all about 1500 more words of Jimmy/Ben, so give him thanks.

Read.

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II.

It was a little after noon and most of the 2nd Mass had gathered inside the community center for lunch. Jimmy crossed camp towards the bench where Ben sat, his back to his approaching friend, and eyes scanning intently their perimeter. He almost seemed the picture of a loyal watchdog, all he needed was a collar.

Ben didn't stir when Jimmy took a seat on the bench next to him, casually resting their shoulders against one another. It was getting noticeably colder outside, and while Jimmy wore layers to stave off the chill, Ben was dressed in only a t-shirt, despite that, Ben's warmth was still overbearing through the fabric of Jimmy's shirt.

Jimmy held out a small, unopened package of trail-mix. Ben accepted it, glancing at the crinkling plastic front. He made a face.

"Raisins?" he complained.

"It's all they had," Jimmy returned. Ben darted him a skeptical look and Jimmy folded his arms over his chest, remarking huffily, "You know, you could go in there and get yourself food. You're more than capable."

"Yeah, sure, walk right through the crowd of people that would rather chop off their own hand than eat near me," Ben muttered, opening the package and dumping some of its contents in his open palm, then picking through to toss away the raisins, "Waiting in line with them all glaring at me, don't think I'd have an appetite by the time I got to the food."

Jimmy watched Ben a moment, and then shook his head.

"You're the reason there's so many fucking pigeons around here," he noted, then said, "The way people look at you isn't going to change anytime soon, Ben, so one of these days you're going to have just grow some balls and deal with it."

Ben grinned and opened his mouth to comment, a smart, possibly crude comeback clearly prepped on his tongue.

"Shut up," Jimmy snapped.

Ben closed his mouth soundlessly, smirking at the other boy. He popped a peanut in his mouth, chewing it thoughtfully. Jimmy leaned back and rubbed a hand over his face.

"I don't see why I'd ever need to, when I've got you to do it for me," Ben quipped and Jimmy shot him a dangerous look.

"And what happens when I get so annoyed that I stop doing it for you?"

"Well, then I starve," Ben easily replied, "Which, of course, you'll see me crippled with hunger pangs, take pity on me, and bring me food, and thus, ultimately, I win."

"What makes you so sure I won't just tell you you're a dumbass and let you rot?" Jimmy grumbled.

"Pure faith," Ben answered, biting a dried pineapple in twain and grinning at Jimmy.

Jimmy rolled his eyes. They sat in amiable silence a moment, Ben carefully selecting his favorite morsels from the trail-mix in his hand as Jimmy took up Ben's watch of the horizon, always keeping Ben in the corner of his vision.

"See any more strange lights?" Jimmy questioned quietly and Ben visibly grimaced.

They hadn't spoken about it the night before, Ben hadn't exactly wanted to carry on a conversation about the white light blazing across the horizon that he'd witnessed in the distance, cutting through the vast darkness as though a rising sun; an anomaly that no one back at camp had noticed. Jimmy had prodded Ben for details as they'd trekked back to camp through the twilight, he was concerned of course, but he wasn't sure if it should be for the general safety of the group or for Ben's own sanity. Regardless, Ben hadn't offered up much information, and not wanting to irritate the other boy with his persistence, Jimmy let the subject drop, even as it nibbled away in the back of his mind.

"Nope," Ben unconcernedly replied, flicking away another raisin.

"Seriously, if you're not going to eat those, just give them to me," Jimmy griped, holding out a hand for the preserved fruit Ben seemed to abhor so much. Ben dropped a couple in the outstretched palm and Jimmy popped them in his mouth, grumbling, "You're so wasteful."

"I'm wasteful?" Ben replied teasingly, "You're the one that's wasteful. You should have said something sooner, instead you just watch me toss them away and bitch about pigeons."

Another silence, as Jimmy chewed the raisins and Ben munched on a banana chip.

"What do you think it was? That light?" Jimmy murmured, taking a few raisins from the last of the trail-mix in Ben's hand.

"We need to talk about this again? I told you last night it was probably nothing," Ben muttered, a sharp edge to his tone.

Jimmy dropped his eyes, swallowing down the raisins and biting his inner cheek, a small squeeze on his jackhammering heart. He knew he shouldn't have asked, Ben had said the night before that it was 'nothing', so Jimmy should have just left it at that. Instead, he needed to push. He'd always been like that, even as a child, pushing and picking at things right passed their limits; it had bothered his parents, and they had hated him for it, amongst his other little terrible traits.

Now, he was trying desperately to curtail those quirks of his that had made him so unbearable in the past, because he didn't want Ben to hate him, but it was so difficult when Ben made him feel so at ease. He felt in a constant war with himself to not drive the other boy away.

"You don't need to worry about it so much," Ben said, startling Jimmy from his personal musings.

"What?"

Jimmy wasn't entirely sure of Ben's meaning and while rationally there was no way Ben could know what Jimmy had been thinking in those silent seconds he'd unwittingly let pass, sometimes Jimmy wasn't entirely sure that amongst the various other superhuman abilities the harness had left Ben with, there wasn't a form of mind-reading thrown in as well.

"The light," Ben clarified, "Forget about it."

"Oh," Jimmy whispered, wiping the salt from the raisins off on his trouser legs then leaning forward on his knees. The request was far easier said than done, when it so obviously still weighed heavy on Ben's mind, "I'm not worrying. I was just wondering, is all..."

They fell quiet again, but this time it was a more awkward, drawn out silence. Ben finished the trail-mix, knocking his hands together to brush away the salt.

"So…Hal is probably going to be preoccupied for the next hour or two," he stated casually.

Jimmy quirked a brow, he'd been wondering where the eldest Mason brother was and why he hadn't appeared to 'check' on Ben in the past five minutes. It seemed in the absence of proper parental supervision, Hal had taken it upon himself to play chaperone for the two younger boys whenever opportunity presented itself. Jimmy didn't mind it so much, Hal wasn't cruel about his intrusions, more or less just wanting to make sure the two younger boys weren't constant victims of their own hormones, not to mention, it wasn't as though he had much time to devote to his over-protective brother cause, what with his duties as a fighter, but for Ben, Hal's constant hovering was paramount to a declaration of war. Their arguments got uncomfortably heated at times and Jimmy wasn't entirely sure if it was normal brotherly behavior, never having had a brother himself, or if they might need a professionally trained mediator.

"Why is that?" Jimmy wondered, trying to imagine what could be holding Hal up.

"He's been in talking with Weaver," Ben explained, "And it doesn't look like he'll be getting out anytime soon. Is it wrong that I kind of hope he's in trouble and Weaver is tearing him apart?"

"That's weird," Jimmy said, taken aback, "Dai's been in with Weaver all morning too. Same with Anthony."

Ben hummed wistfully under his breath then jokingly remarked, "I wonder why we weren't invited."

"I'm sure they sent us an invite, but it just got lost in the mail," Jimmy droned sarcastically, "I wonder what's going on. Seems like it might be big, if Weaver's got Dai, Anthony, Hal…there are other fighters I haven't seen around camp all morning either. I thought they were out on scout before, but now…I'm not so sure…"

"You know, that is fascinating and all, but could we get back to the part where _Hal_ is _busy_ elsewhere?" Ben pressed.

Jimmy sighed, shaking his head exasperatedly at the other boy. He lifted himself up off the bench and stretched languidly, then started trudging towards the 2nd Mass's makeshift parking lot, pausing only briefly to glance back to Ben expectantly over his shoulder. Ben grinned, on his feet in an instant and falling in step beside Jimmy.

...

The 2nd Mass hadn't spent very long at their current location, a community center dug into a small suburban setting somewhere on the southeastern corner of Massachusetts's state. It had only been a couple weeks, but they had been long, arduous weeks that saw the small militia unit in constant struggle with the enemy. For the most part, the civilians were safe, but the surrounding areas, those commercial plazas and industrial complexes where there were more likely to be supplies for looting, were completely overrun with the enemy.

People had grown accustomed to this strange, war-torn life, however, managing to form bonds, rituals, and a new cultural identity within the 2nd Mass community. In the face of extreme adversity, they found reasons to laugh, to smile, found love amongst one another. A couple weeks back, the group welcomed its first true baby of the Skitter-infested world, conceived and born to a mother and father; each of them fighters that had only just met after the invasion. They had named their child 'Perseverance'.

It impressed Hal, how easily mankind could adapt to new, uncertain situations. His father, a former university professor of war history, Tom Mason, used to talk about the resilience of the human spirit. It was his belief that there was nothing that could crush a person entirely, that they would always find a way to continue on. Hope, it couldn't be taken, it couldn't be destroyed, no matter the seeming futility of any situation, hope would always remain.

Of course, three months back Tom Mason had willingly climbed on-board one of the enemy alien space crafts at the bequest of one such alien and hadn't been seen since, so Hal wasn't sure how much stock to put in his father's words anymore.

Captain Weaver, the gruff leader of the 2nd Mass, took full advantage of their location within the battlefield. He devised complex guerilla attacks on the enemy, something to keep the Skitters at bay and on their six-legged toes. Clever strikes that did menial amounts of damage to the overall enemy force, but afforded the civilians of the 2nd Mass their comfortable existence, allowing the fighters windows of opportunity to search out resources and bring back much needed supplies.

Though, at times, those resources came at a high price. Fighters had been lost in those past weeks. Hal had seen good friends and amiable acquaintances killed, murdered by the clawed hands of the Skitters or their mechanical bipedal beasts that were near impossible to take head on, they had been dubbed 'mechs' by the fighters.

The newborn babe, Perseverance, had unknowingly lost his father a week after his birth in a raid on a canning factory in a downtown area twenty miles north of their location. Several days before, Captain Weaver had lost his interim second-in-command, a reasonable man by the name of Samson, who had been filling in the role, which was another responsibility aside from his three young children that Tom Mason had abandoned months prior.

Currently, a strong, silent fighter by the name of Dai was acting as second-in-command. Dai was a good friend of Hal's, and while he was a capable fighter, and had good leadership qualities, he wasn't suited for high-command. It meant a lot of times he was forced to sit out from the battlefield, which was where he really belonged and truly wanted to be.

Dai was the one who had determined that if the 2nd Mass didn't make a significant strike on the enemy soon that they would be discovered by the alien forces which were slowly, yet unintentionally, surrounding them. They needed to push the enemy back a bit, give them something they needed to recover from, and give the 2nd Mass time to find a new relocation point.

There were specific buildings, structures that the aliens had built upon, that seemed to garner a certain extreme guardianship. They were important to the enemy, and while the 2nd Mass had yet to learn the purpose of those buildings, they did learn that attacking one usually sent the enemy into a retreat. A couple days ago, a scouting group brought back news of one such building.

Hal had spent the morning in meeting with Captain Weaver, Dai, and some of the other fighters whose opinions seemed to carry the greatest esteem with the high-ups. Hal wasn't entirely sure when and why his opinion had come to be so valued, part of him felt it had something to do with his father's previous rank in the community, and another part of him was suspicious that it had to do with his younger brother, Ben's status as having been formerly-harnessed, and therefore having a unique, intimate bond with the enemy, as well as, the weird 'abilities' the harness seemed to have imbued Ben with, both of which Weaver, in recent times, had become interested in exploiting.

After a long debate on attack strategy, Weaver had declared that there was to be a meeting of fighters to further hash out details. The attack would happen; but when, where, and how was the question. Weaver and Dai had ideas, but they needed to bounce them off the unit. They only had so many fighters, after all, and asking the men to constantly risk their lives on half-cocked plans took a certain finesse that Weaver had perfected over the course of his short career as the 2nd Mass's captain.

Hal volunteered to muster the troops, eager to get out of the stuffy room Weaver had taken over as his center-of-operations and out into the open air to clear his head. He passed the message of meeting on to several fighters he met along his trek, instructed them to pay it forward. 2nd Mass was small, less than two hundred people last count; he only needed to whisper in a few ears before the news would travel to everyone in camp.

The only fighter that might not receive word was Hal's own younger brother, Ben, and it was another part of the reason Hal had volunteered to gather everyone, so as to ensure that 'everyone' was gathered. A quick round of the camp and it seemed Hal's fears were justified. Ben was nowhere to be found. Nor was Jimmy, the youngest fighter of the group and the only one that Ben could truly call 'friend'.

Hal could take a few guesses as to what exactly the two younger boys were doing, the question was, where were they doing it and did Hal really want to find them doing it. He came across Maggie in his wanderings around camp.

"You seen Ben?" he asked, after proper greetings were exchanged. Maggie glanced around, as though expecting Ben to appear out of nowhere, and shrugged.

"Nope," she answered, "I think I saw him and Jimmy together earlier," Hal nodded, of course, "They were talking with a couple of the girls over near the artillery cart."

Hal furrowed his brow and folded his arms over his chest, suddenly skeptical of the information.

"A couple girls?" he pressed.

"Yeah," Maggie confirmed, smirking knowingly, and rolling her eyes, "I'll take you to them."

Maggie led the way towards the artillery cart, a trailer bed that housed the majority of the 2nd Mass's weapon and ammo supplies, and they found two young teenage girls sitting and chatting nearby. Valerie and Mary were their names, if Hal remembered correctly. They were both fighters that typically handled late night patrols, but both were excellent shooters, and sometimes played the part of sniper in battle, though it was rare. They weren't equipped or trained well enough to handle any kind of fighting that was up-close and personal.

When Maggie and Hal approached, the girls instantly fell silent, appearing as if caught with their hands in the proverbial cookie jar, probably gossiping from their expressions, dually guarded and curious all at once. They stared expectantly up at the older, more veteran fighters.

"You two were talking to Ben and Jimmy earlier?" Hal questioned. The girls exchanged looks.

"Yeah," Valerie provided, "But they left like ten minutes ago."

"Right. Well, where did they go?" Hal asked.

"Somewhere to do boy stuff, probably," Mary unhelpfully supplied.

"Those two are always like that, you know? It's so annoying. Like they have their own little boys club, but no one else is allowed to join," Valerie rattled off, "We were just trying to have a nice conversation with them but like two minutes in they were like, okay we have to go. Honestly, I think it's all because of Jimmy. He's so immature about that kind of thing, you know? Selfish, is what it is. Like, no one else is allowed to talk to Ben. And I don't think it's fair at all to Ben. He should be able to make more friends and not have to close everyone out just because Jimmy is so-"

"Why are you putting all the blame on Jimmy? Ben didn't really act like he wanted to stick around either. Did you ever think that maybe it's because you were boring them so much with all that talk about your favorite vegetable?" Mary cut in vapidly.

Maggie perked a brow at Hal and he rolled his eyes, shaking his head at the two motor-mouthed girls.

"Um…excuse you; Jimmy was the one that told Ben they had to go, he's always bossing Ben around like that, if you hadn't noticed. Ben was perfectly fine listening to my story, and he always listens to everything I have to say, because he is a really good listener, unlike some people I know," Valerie snapped.

"Uh…that is so not true. And you just want to believe that Ben listens to everything you say because you have such a huge crush on him," Mary shot back. Valerie's eyes went wide, darting frantically to Hal.

"I do not," she hissed, then bit out accusation, "You have a crush on Jimmy."

"Shut up, you bitch," Mary spat.

"Hey, ladies," Hal barked and the girls fell into an embarrassed silence, "I don't care who has a crush on who; I just want to know where they went."

"Off that direction," Valerie answered sheepishly, pointing over her shoulder towards the cluster of vehicles the 2nd Mass had accumulated over the months.

Hal frowned. The oblivious girls may not have picked up on it, which was to be expected given that they weren't entirely clued in on the full details of Ben and Jimmy's relationship, but Hal knew just from one glance at the parked vehicles exactly where the boys were at. One of the vehicles in the 2nd Mass roster was a large black bus with limo-tinted windows, and while its use prior to the war wasn't exactly clear, it had been nicknamed by some of the younger, more hormonally charged members of the 2nd Mass the 'First Night'. A lot of 2nd Mass teens had lost their virginity in the back of that bus.

Hal sighed, falling in step beside Maggie for a moment as they muttered their 'thanks' to the girls, and hiked knowingly towards the makeshift 'parking lot'.

"I almost feel sorry for those girls," Maggie commented softly, though her voice sounded more light and amused than sympathetic, "They are so clueless right now."

Hal glanced over his shoulder to the giggling gale-storms and wondered earnestly, "Should we tell them?"

"Oh no," Maggie laughed, rationalizing, "They're fifteen. In another week or so they'll be crushing on some entirely different boys, probably some older guys that stopped and said 'hi' one day. Speaking of which, you might want to be careful who you talk to casually, Hal, you know you could be next."

"That is not funny," Hal muttered, shuddering at the thought of a couple hyped-up teeny boppers stalking him around camp, but Maggie just chuckled a cruel response, before waving and parting company.

...

The boys had left their rifles at the front of the bus, leaned against the driver's seat. Out of the way, but easy to grab in a pinch should the enemy choose that less-than-fortuitous moment to attack. Jimmy had left his field vest slung over the high back of the third seat from the front, his compass – a borrowed item from Captain Weaver – lay carefully on the seat beneath it. Sheathed knives, holstered guns, made for odd breadcrumbs, a violent trail leading towards the back of the bus.

Jimmy lay on his back, the floor of the bus not exactly the most comfortable of places, but with Ben rest heavy and warm atop him, he didn't really have the strength of mind to notice. His heart beat erratic in his chest, his breath came in sharp and left flighty and hot across his lips. His hands ghosted daintily along bare flesh, they had slipped beneath Ben's shirt, the hem of which was curled up a length, and his fingers traced along those rigid, metallic rods that jutted horrifically out of Ben's spine, and then dropped every now and then to ripple across sinewy stretches of taut muscle.

Ben had his mouth firmly planted on Jimmy's neck, just above the collarbone, suckling and massaging the area raw, his tongue dragging tenderly across the skin. He'd dedicated much of his attentions to that one spot over the past few minutes, and Jimmy didn't want to think about the excuses he would need to invent to explain away the tell-tale mark that would undoubtedly be left behind.

Finally, Ben shifted his focus, lifting slightly to stare intent into Jimmy's half-lidded blue eyes a moment, a faint, endeared smile lingering on those dampened lips, before he crashed his mouth against Jimmy's, his tongue diving in and roughly forcing a throaty moan of excitement from the other boy.

Jimmy responded involuntarily, tightening his grip on Ben a moment, attempting to pull the other boy closer by his hips, as if there were any more space to squeeze out between the two, the way their bodies were so firmly pressed together. He slipped his arms up to hold Ben by the shoulders, as Ben deepened their already severely profound kiss, balancing part of his weight on his forearms, which rest on either side of Jimmy's head.

Then Ben repositioned his body slightly and slid one hand down to fumble with the buttons of Jimmy's trousers, both boys incredibly hot and hard. It took him a few attempts, too distracted by a sudden swap of tongues, as Jimmy gently dove into Ben's mouth, and tentatively searched Ben's gum walls, tickling the soft pink flesh and rigid wrinkles of his top palate.

Eventually, Ben did manage to get the buttons undone, slowly dragging the zipper down and…

BAM, BAM, BAM!

Ben and Jimmy startled apart at the sound of someone's fist pounding against the back door of the bus, flushed and somewhat groggy, staring out at their surroundings with heat blurred eyes.

"Yo, Ben," Hal's voice boomed from outside, "Get decent. I'm coming in."

"Shit," Ben muttered, resting his fevered forehead against Jimmy's collar a moment. Jimmy squeezed his eyes shut, running a hand over his own sweat-slick face, mussing his already disastrous hair. They could hear the crunch of footsteps outside, slowly making their way towards the front door of the bus.

The boys attempted to reluctantly untangle themselves, Ben crawling back and upwards, pinching or pressing down too hard on something and causing Jimmy to grimace and grunt complaint.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," Ben chanted wearily, pushing the other boy's shirt up briefly to expose a pale belly, one side twisted with a gnarled burn scar still in the process of healing, and pressing an apologetic kiss there.

"Just get off," Jimmy groaned, swatting Ben away, just as the front door opened and Hal bounded up the stairs into the bus.

Ben fell back on his haunches, seated on his knees glaring heatedly up at his brother, and Jimmy rolled up to sitting, pulling his knees towards himself and resting his arms across them, trying to avoid looking to the older Mason, his cheeks blistering with remaining lust-induced fever. Hal took in the scene before him and made a face.

"Don't you two have patrol tonight?" he bit out.

"Yeah, so?" Ben challenged as Jimmy murmured, "What's your point?"

"Patrol is kind of why we're here," Ben reasoned haughtily, to Jimmy's chagrin, "Get it out of our systems now, you know…"

As Ben spoke, Hal narrowed his eyes angrily on Jimmy, particularly focused on Jimmy's neck and the younger boy self-consciously pulled his shirt collar over the marks he just knew were there, leaning farther over his knees and dipping his chin into his folded arms in attempt to hide his increasingly reddening face.

"My point is, should you really be wearing yourselves out like this when the 2nd Mass will be depending on you tonight to be alert and on-guard," Hal growled.

"We'll be fine," Ben argued.

"Maybe you will," Hal replied, "But Jimmy isn't amped up on Skitter-juice like you. He isn't going to have the energy to entertain your hormones and then wander around for hours on end all night."

"Jimmy will be fine" Ben spat out angrily, "He already gets the job done better on less hours of sleep than most of the other fighters on rounds, a short make-out session is not going to make that great a difference in his performance."

"Jimmy is in the room," Jimmy mumbled quietly, but didn't quite have the motivation to press the issue, still feeling mortified by the older boy's presence in his current state.

"Key phrase in that, Ben, is less hours of sleep," Hal retorted, "Jimmy is lucky he can function right now, you really want to find out how far that luck can stretch?"

"He functions just fine," Ben muttered.

"And you know, Ben, if it's such a concern that you'll be distracted on patrols, then maybe you ought to request a new partner," Hal finally declared. Jimmy's heart dropped at the suggestion, he couldn't stand the idea of someone else, someone he didn't fully trust, out there with Ben, but Ben merely bristled angrily at his brother's words.

"Did you actually have a reason for being here? Because if all you came to do was boss me around, well, then you're wasting both our times. So if you'll excuse me, I was in the middle of something," Ben snarled, before turning back towards Jimmy, eyes burning with intent, and advancing on the other boy.

"Ben…" Hal groaned, turning away and smacking a hand over his face, as Jimmy's eyes widened at Ben's action, blood draining completely from his head. He fell away, putting up his arms defensively to hold Ben back.

"Get off, man, I'm not making out in front of your brother," Jimmy protested, then winced and muttered, "…again."

"I came to tell you that Weaver is calling a meeting," Hal announced loudly, and Ben sat up once more, looking curiously to his older brother. Jimmy straightened a bit as well, darting disgruntled looks at Ben and considering an appropriate punishment for the brash boy's antics. Seriously, did Ben have to mortify him every time Hal was around?

"When?" Ben wondered.

"Ten minutes. In the community center, room 14A, the large one with all the art supplies," Hal clarified, then shaking his head and sighing wearily, muttered, "I have to go finish passing the message on…I expect you two to be there on time," he started down the bus stairs then paused and hissed, "And don't be in here! What if someone saw you two or what if I was someone else?"

"Well…then we would have to kill them, of course," Ben responded easily. Jimmy rolled his eyes. Hal bounded back up the steps and jabbed a finger meaningfully at his younger brother.

"Do not say shit like that," he roared, "You got enough people watching you, suspicious of you, without you running off at the mouth saying stupid things like that."

Ben lowered his face, folding his arms over his chest and glaring at a far corner of the bus. Jimmy furrowed his brow, eying the other boy concernedly, the emotion there could easily be mistaken as anger at Hal's words, but Jimmy knew better, the hurt that swirled there, the self-doubts, and when Hal disappeared down the steps again, he crawled the distance between himself and Ben, grabbing Ben by the shirt collar and dragging him forward into a short, sweet kiss, just a reminder that not everyone watching him was doing it out of suspicion.

Ben grinned, starting forward, arm wrapping around Jimmy's waist, tugging the boy towards himself and wondering suggestively, "So…where were we?"

"Yeah," Jimmy drawled disinterestedly, Ben's behavior in front of Hal still at the forefront of his mind, he pulled back and gently patted Ben's cheek, "I got a meeting to get to," he lifted himself up and, glancing pointedly at Ben's returning arousal, jeered, "You're gonna have to take care of that yourself."

Without another word, Jimmy strode towards the front of the bus, grabbing his field vest and rifle on the way out, not once looking back to the gaping Ben left behind.

* * *

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A/N: Whoosh, let me know what you guys think. I know, I know, the one-a-week updates are hard after weeks of daily updates, but at least those of you with school and overbooked social lives have time to read and review before the next post goes up...silver lining. :) And I feel less stressed too, which makes me less cranky...I think...nope, total lie, I'm still cranky.

Oh well. Let me know what you thought of this chapter!

Reviewers: Haley, glad to have you as the first review! WhisperMaw, didn't think of more to say? I'm a little disappointed...kidding, glad you liked the first chapter. ScarlettLynn, lol, snazzy is a good word. Glad to hear I got a good laugh from you, and yes, I'm kind of hoping to make this story a lot darker than First Patrol. I don't think I beat the boys up enough, I hope to make up for it in this story. FacePalmer123, lol, them's the brakes, kid. I'm glad you liked it! Greg, yeah, Ben's a pretty hard-core nerd, I have to admit, it's only because I have a huge soft-spot for nerds. And...you do realize that I will now be reading your zombie fics, right? Cookie97, yes, I love writing from his perspective, he just dumps love for the poor emotionally-crippled Jimmy. Its funny, because Ben thinks he doesn't understand Jimmy, but he does, and Jimmy thinks he understands Ben, but he really doesn't. Glad to hear you'll be with me to the end, I'm holding you to that! CallMePox, ah, ever in defense of my shameless OCs, I dig it, you are too awesome Pox. Glad you found the start so good, I'll try my best to maintain the quality. Heracratzarism, where the heck have you been? Anyhow, glad to hear from you and that you like the sequel already. Yeah, Jimmy...he never really changes.

Okay, everybody, I'll see you all Sunday! Off to study for mid-terms...can you all hear me whimpering pathetically?


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Oi vey, is it Sunday already? I'm kidding, the week takes so long to pass by...

Thank you as always to the wonderful reviewers, you guys are super awesome.

Beta'd by Greg, huge thanks to him for all his hard work.

Read.

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III.

There was something almost disheartening about all of the 2nd Mass fighters being gathered together in a small classroom of a community center. Their numbers had been dwindling over the months, and even more so over those past few weeks. While lost fighters were sometimes replaced with young teenagers, only deemed capable after a short series of shooting lessons that basically taught them how to hold a gun and pull the trigger, the numbers were far from even. They had roughly forty fighters now, a third of which were newly trained fifteen and even fourteen year olds.

Ben and Jimmy took up a position near the back of the room, hovering beside the classroom door, opting to stand though there were empty chairs in the room and not many fighters being waited on to join the meeting. Ben preferred being on the outskirts of any gathering, being able to press himself as far away from everyone as possible. That way he didn't have to feel their tense reproach towards him. He couldn't do much about their heated glares or the low whispers they didn't realize he could easily hear. He also liked to be positioned close to an exit, giving him a quick out when his presence was no longer required.

The only relief about fighter meetings was that, unlike the majority of the civilians, many of the fighters were actually more tolerant of Ben. They had been in battle with him, they were friends with his brother, Hal, and with Jimmy, and though they obviously didn't trust him – it was evident in their eyes, in the way they spoke to him, in the decisions they made in the heat of battle alongside him – they didn't treat him like a leper, either.

At the front of the room, Captain Weaver talked quietly with Dai and Anthony. Hal and Maggie and a few other more experienced fighters hovered around the front, waiting for the meeting to start.

"What do you think Weaver is planning?" Ben whispered to Jimmy.

Jimmy knew the captain better than most; they had formed a strange bond over the several months Jimmy had traveled under the captain's command. Both had lost their families entirely and in a way, found within one another a means to fill the gaping void in their hearts that those losses had left behind.

For Jimmy, that loss consisted of his parents and a younger sister – the exact fact of which only Ben was aware. Jimmy was the original orphan of the 2nd Mass, most other orphans were either like Ben and his brothers, lost their parents over the course of traveling with the 2nd Mass, or were similar to Ben, rescued and unharnessed, but who their parents were and where they might be was a mystery. Somehow, Jimmy had survived two months alone in the hell left over after the first alien attacks, a feat apparently no other child could accomplish; other orphaned children either perished quickly after the invasion or were captured by the aliens and harnessed. If there was one word everyone in the 2nd Mass could agree on to describe the boy, it was 'tough'.

The captain had lost an estranged wife and two daughters. He was still uncertain of all of their actual fates, and whether he had any high hopes in that regard, he never hinted at it. He never much spoke about it at all, keeping his focus locked entirely on the war and leading the people in his charge. He carried his grief seemingly with ease, never indicating that it might be a burden.

_It wears on him though_, Jimmy once told Ben, _you can see it in the way his eyes darken and kind of get faraway whenever he's around other families_.

To which Ben had smartly responded, _just like you_. An observation that hadn't exactly gone over well with the other boy, if the small bruise Ben had sported on his ribs for a few days after was any indication.

If there were one word that everyone in the 2nd Mass could agree on to describe the old man it was 'honorable'.

But Ben would have to say that if he were ever to describe one, he would simply point to the other, the two were so alike. Weaver was tough as well and Jimmy was also honorable, and they were rugged and weatherworn, naturally terse. Sometimes when Ben looked at Weaver, he worried that he was seeing Jimmy's future, a miserable old man hardened by life, a great leader only because long ago he had separated himself entirely from his emotions so as to make the terrible decisions that no one else could.

"How should I know?" Jimmy grunted return, folding his arms over his chest and studying the captain up at the front, "You have the super hearing, why don't you find out and tell me?"

Weaver was looking more haggard those days, crinkles under his eyes and around his mouth had become more pronounced, he didn't shave as frequently, and his skin looked sallow. His shoulders slumped minutely, they weren't pulled back as proudly as they once were; it was a posture change that no one would have noticed unless they were paying very close attention.

Dai kept saying something that Weaver didn't seem to approve of and then Anthony would add something and Weaver would stroke his chin thoughtfully, as though considering whatever it was that Anthony suggested, but from his features, Jimmy knew Weaver was just looking for the best way to argue his firm 'no'.

"They just keep talking about battle formations," Ben muttered.

"So…he's planning another attack," Jimmy surmised with a nonchalant shrug.

"But why would he call everyone together for that?" Ben wondered, "Usually Weaver just passes assignments on to fighters involved and leaves it at that, no need for a huge conference."

Jimmy narrowed his eyes on the captain a moment, and then smirked, "Because this attack is gonna be big. Really big. And important, I'm guessing, from the way Weaver is so stressed about the details. Finally. Our attacks have been so pathetic lately, we might as well just be throwing rocks at the aliens for all the damage we've done."

"You think?" Ben replied, feeling an inexplicable tingle of excitement at the idea of it, mixed with his own anxiety at the prospect of having to go into another battle.

Ben furrowed his brow and leaned his shoulder heavily against Jimmy's, finding comfort in that small physical contact. His emotions had been getting more conflicted lately and he didn't like the confusion. There was a part of him, something deep inside, a darkness that kept growing and swelling; that fed a peculiar desperate desire, one that wanted to hunt, to attack, to kill.

Furthermore, the feeling seemed to exacerbate Ben's already problematic and unfamiliar harness-gifted 'abilities'. He'd become increasingly restless in recent times, despite pushing himself harder and harder every day: running for hours on end in his spare time, volunteering himself for the most laborious of tasks around camp, and seeking out Jimmy more often to exercise his excess energy, a burden, Ben guiltily knew, that was beginning to wear on the other boy, not that Jimmy would ever admit it.

Weaver and his 'advisors' seemed to have reached a decision, and Weaver took a stance at the front of the room, calling the fighters to attention. A hush fell over the group; all eyes were on the old man.

"Alright, everyone, listen up," Weaver boomed, "Now, as some of you may have heard, a couple days ago we located another alien structure. It's about fifteen miles away. Preliminary reports say that, just like the other ones, it's pretty heavily guarded."

A rash of low whispers erupted amongst the group, some excited, some anxious.

"He wants to attack another of those things?" Ben mumbled, and Jimmy didn't respond.

Weaver paced a couple times, let the fighters have their moment to digest the new information, before calling their attention back to him.

"As you all know, we've got a problem. The enemy has been spreading out this direction and, although we've been managing to keep them away from us, they're leaking around, starting to surround us and eventually they're going to figure out that there's a big 2nd Mass sized hole in their map," Weaver continued, "We need to do something to distract them and soon, so that we can figure out a new course of action. I have a few places in mind that we could head to, mainly, an old airplane hangar not too far from here. It'll take several days travel, we'll probably hit the enemy many times along the way, but it's a good place to set up base for a time, a little better than where we are right now.

"Looking at photographs of this structure and the forces surrounding it that have been brought back by our scouts, I think we stand a good chance of taking it down. It still seems to be under construction, and the troops on it are significantly less heavy than ones we've seen in the past."

Weaver paused, walked around the front of the room a couple times, folded his hands behind his back, stopped and stared out at the group, letting his eyes rove over every face before him.

"We've seen some hard times lately. Our numbers are hurting. I know. Some of you are frustrated; our few victories lately just don't seem to justify the losses. Perfectly understandable. But this is our opportunity, our chance now, to make up for it. To show that those fighters we've lost didn't give their lives in vain," Weaver told them, his words strong and unwavering, "I've got a few ideas about how to go about bringing that structure down, I want it to be a precision attack, risking the fewest amount of lives. I'm working on details, still gathering intel on the target. My goal is to be able to go ahead with the strike next week, up and moving the 2nd Mass to a new location the following day."

"This is insane," Jimmy griped, leaning towards Ben and barely moving his lips as he spoke under his breath, "We don't have the number of experienced fighters or the artillery needed for this kind of op, he knows that."

"It's Weaver, he's got to have something up his sleeve," Ben replied silently, and from the way Jimmy tensed beside him, he was fairly certain they were both thinking the same as far as what that something was: Ben.

"This means, of course, I'm going to be swapping around some of your usual routines. I've broken you into three teams," Weaver explained, "My first team is intel, they'll be watching the structure daily, bringing back reports on enemy activity, getting a feel of the land. Hal, Dai, Ben, and I'm sending you guys out with Pope, alright?

"Ten of you will work rounds, teams of five, clearing the path to our first and second checkpoint on route to the hangar. Damien and Maggie will take point; going with them will be Minus, Merle, Jackson, Tobias, Franklin, Beth, Ortiz, and Mary," Weaver went on, "And the rest of you will be working rounds on patrol, see Anthony for your schedules."

Ben perked somewhat at his name, glancing to his brother across the room once, meeting the older boy's eyes for a moment, and then dropping his gaze back to Jimmy, who seemed disquieted by the entire announcement.

It figured that Ben would be sent on the dangerous team, his skills would be necessary for getting the most detailed information on the target, and although the two boys had been partnered on seemingly every assignment they were doled out lately, the grand scale of the mission leant rationale to the otherwise odd decision to suddenly break them up, and Ben knew that Jimmy understood that, but he had to at least feel a little miffed that he wasn't being sent anywhere.

Undoubtedly, Jimmy saw it as a commentary on his abilities as a fighter, which had to sting. As the youngest fighter of the 2nd Mass, he'd had to push himself hard to earn respect as one amongst the resistance's ranks, and to suddenly be shoved to the sidelines like that probably felt akin to a hard slap in the face.

Ben wanted to comfort Jimmy, despite the prying eyes of their fellow fighters. He wanted to hold him, to take his hand, press soothing kisses to every available inch of Jimmy's flesh, but he couldn't even so much as say a single, encouraging word, Jimmy would slap it away so fast and, not to mention, the others would criticize them both, tear them apart for any small affectionate gesture. It hurt so much to be held back, when he knew Jimmy was in such pain, but he supposed it was the price he had to pay to at least be allowed to care for that other boy in private.

So intent was Ben on fighting his urge to reach out to Jimmy, he barely heard Weaver's barked dismissal of the fighters, hardly noticed when the group shuffled to their feet and started for the exit, but he did hear when Weaver called, "Jimmy, stay behind, I want to have a word with you," and that single sentence was enough to paralyze.

Jimmy darted a meaningful look to Ben, then maneuvered through the departing fighters towards the front, where Weaver and Dai were once again deep in conversation.

Ben hadn't realized he'd stayed planted where he was, and that everyone had left, until Weaver, Dai, and Jimmy, the only ones still left in the room shot him a curious look.

"Get going, Ben, meeting's over," Weaver commanded, waving the anxious boy outside.

Ben reluctantly headed for the door, his eyes never leaving Jimmy's piercing blue, until the door had shut soundly behind him.

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A/N: So now we're moving in to the nitty-gritty of the story. Yay! Right, because this chapter was so short, I'm considering - _considering_ - posting another chapter later tonight or tomorrow morning. This will depend on a number of factors, partly reviews and mainly how much I get written tonight. I just want you all prepared so that no one is too confused if I do double update.

Okay? Okay. Let me know what you think!

Reviewers: Facepalmer123, congrats on the first-to-review. Glad you loved it. Haley, lol, that chapter earned an expletive, hm? Awesome, thanks for the well-wishes, I took my first mid-term last week and I think I aced it. I got two more next week I need to study for tho. WhisperMaw, lol, in a sense he did. Um...Fitchberg...I actually have no plans to work Fitchberg into the story mainly because...I haven't read the comic and using it in the story would require me to read the comic and I'm ethically opposed. So, unless someone wants to give me a detailed play-by-play of how that went down, I won't be using it. Aw...I don't think Hal would think of Val and Mary as "dumbasses", maybe..."ditzy twats" or something along those lines. Heracratzarism, family trip? Okay, I suppose that's acceptable. I'm teasing, of course. I'm glad to have you back reading and reviewing tho! JDMlvr1, yeah, I don't know where that raisin scene even came from, dug out from the dark recesses of my mind, so I'm glad you liked it. IcicleLilly, you're becoming something of a regular? Awesome. I'm glad you like the Hal-interaction, because there's lots more of him in chapters to come. Greg, too late. Maika-LunaRota, another new regular reveiwer? Double awesome. I know, the one a week updates suck for me too, cause I always worry that readers are going to get bored waiting...but it has to be this way if you all want to see the story's end. Trust me, I know me better than anyone. Cookie97, honestly, I never liked Hal in the show...but I was really trying not to let that show in the story, and now I'm worried that it might be. Yeah...Ben is awesome. I too have a soft-spot for nerds, so that will definitely show in his character.

Fucking cat just chewed through my mouse wire...had to plug in my pen tablet...grrrr...

Right. Um...so I'll see you all later...either tonight, tomorrow, or next Sunday. We'll see...


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Alright, as (not really) promised, a double update. Yay! And the villagers rejoice...

Thank you to the reviewers, you guys continue to impress.

Beta'd by Greg, a huge thanks to him. You all can mostly thank him for the double update, he pushed very hard for it for you guys, and also partially thank WhisperMaw because I don't want her to fail any tests.

Read.

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IV.

There were two people in the 2nd Mass that Jimmy respected above and beyond anyone else, and at the moment, they were both peering at him with dark, narrowed, hawk-eyed stares. Captain Weaver stood at the forefront, hands on his hips and chin tilted down; he swept an inspective gaze over the young boy standing at attention before him.

In the background, Dai had his arms folded across his chest and his mouth pressed into a thin lined frown. He probably wouldn't be contributing much to the conversation that was about to be held, and Jimmy wasn't sure how he felt about that. Sometimes Dai was hard to read. Sometimes, meaning, all the time.

Jimmy's disappointment at learning he wouldn't be playing very large a role in the preparations for the upcoming attack, which probably meant he wouldn't be playing a large role in the attack itself either, was quickly replaced by disconcertment. Nervousness gnawed away in his stomach and, almost subconsciously, he bit into his inner cheek, chewing the usually tender gum there, ragged from so much worrying. He focused on keeping his back straight, his arms like rigid poles at his sides, his chest puffed out, as he waited for whatever new disappointment the captain was about to drop on his head.

"How you been feeling these days, Jimmy?" Weaver spoke, and Jimmy just about bowled over. Seriously, he had to 'stay after class' because Weaver wanted to check up on his well-being?

"I'm…fine, sir," Jimmy said carefully, eying the two men in front of him. Dai had moved to the desk and was shuffling through papers there, mostly maps of the area, a few photographs of the structure Jimmy assumed they were planning to attack. Weaver dropped his eyes to the ground and nodded.

"Good, good," Weaver muttered, and then commented, "Dr. Glass said you healed up pretty nicely from that little warehouse adventure of yours a few weeks back."

Jimmy shifted his weight uncomfortably from foot-to-foot, absently running a hand over his outer right thigh, which sported the most prominent of his injuries from the 'warehouse adventure' Weaver was talking about. In short, Jimmy had blown himself up for reasons, in retrospect, he wasn't entirely clear on – protect the 2nd Mass or protect Ben, he still couldn't decide which had prompted his finger to push that button. Somehow he'd survived to spend two days wandering lost and luckily collapsed before he could get too far for the 2nd Mass search parties to find.

Jimmy had only just had the stitches removed from his leg and shoulder, an unrelated injury exacerbated by the explosion, a week ago, and it still bothered him to stand for too long, though he'd never tell anyone for fear Weaver might decide to lighten his responsibilities as a fighter, or maybe even take him off as a fighter altogether. Just like he didn't tell anyone about his bouts of vertigo, his recent lethargy, the phantom ache in his shoulder and spasms of pain in his back, or that he'd blacked out the other day in one of the showers of the locker rooms that were adjacent to the community center pool. He didn't sleep much and his body had been put through hell even before the aliens attacked, he didn't need a diagnosis from Dr. Glass to figure out what was wrong with him, and he didn't need to be taken off the battlefield because of it.

To the end of the war or until the day he died, Jimmy had vowed to fight; no one and nothing could change that.

"Yes, sir," Jimmy confirmed Weaver's statement.

The doctor had been impressed with how quickly Jimmy managed to heal, commenting on the malleability of youth, but considering he shouldn't have been alive at all, because being trapped in an explosion then crushed under a collapsed building tended to kill, Dr. Glass had decided it wasn't out of line to chock Jimmy's survival and speedy recovery up to a miracle and leave it at that.

"Good, glad to hear it," Weaver said, nodding his head as he spoke, "You're all healed up, your spirits seem high. Your patrols have been good; you and Ben are working together well."

"Yes, we are, sir," Jimmy quietly answered the captain's unasked question, hiding the smile that wanted to form at the other boy's name, as he shrugged and sheepishly explained, "We understand each other."

"I see that," Weaver remarked, smirking, "You two are almost inseparable these days. It's good for him to have a genuine friend, someone he can rely on, someone that trusts him. He's got too many people on him all the time, making things hard, and given everything he's been through and all that he does for the 2nd Mass, he deserves to have at least one person here that appreciates him outside of his brothers."

Jimmy nodded, ducking his head a bit to hide the slight blush creeping across his cheeks. Weaver didn't know exactly how Jimmy showed his appreciation of Ben, and the older man was probably better off for it. He could feel Dai's bemused stare though and fidgeted nervously because of it.

Dai had glimpsed at least one kiss between Jimmy and Ben, Jimmy knew because the young man had made mention of it in the form of warning, _keep out of the storage rooms, Cheryl's been doing random checks_.

Cheryl was a middle-aged, busy-bodied civilian woman that usually organized civilian responsibilities around camp, but she had also, at some point, designated herself chief of the morality police. Because they lived in such chaotic times, complete societal collapse coupled with the abundance of unsupervised children, holding on to whatever civilities they could seemed important to the older generations, and Cheryl took it upon herself to ensure that the children were straddled with at least some puritanical decency.

Needless to say, many of the things Jimmy and Ben had done in those storage closets didn't exactly fall under the definition of puritanical, but after much practice, they were definitely becoming decent at it.

"I know you're disappointed you won't be going with him out there," Weaver said. Nail-on-the-head. It seemed Jimmy's impeccable ability to read the old man went both ways.

"Whatever's best for the 2nd Mass, sir," Jimmy murmured, half-heartedly.

"I thought you might say that," Weaver replied, "That's one of the things that makes you such a good fighter, Jimmy, always willing to sacrifice selfish desires for the good of the group."

Jimmy scowled, it was begrudging at times, but yes, he would always make the choices he knew benefited the 2nd Mass first and foremost. No matter how much it hurt to know that this was how highly the captain had come to think of him, that he wasn't good enough to go with Ben, or even with Maggie. He was just like every other shit-fighter that had yet to prove their salt, and it just figured, his whole life he'd been told he was worthless, and now, more so than ever, that statement seemed to be holding true.

"If I'm needed on patrols," Jimmy began glumly, "Then I guess that's where I have to be…"

"That's why I wanted to talk to you, son," Weaver interjected, "I don't need you on patrols."

Jimmy felt like someone had reached in his chest and ripped out his heart, he couldn't bring himself to look up at the captain, it hurt too much. The captain and Dai, the two men whose opinions of him he held in the highest esteem, didn't even want him out on patrols, a job that's only real requirement was being able to stay awake.

"I have a different job for you," Weaver declared.

Jimmy's brow quirked, tentatively, he glanced up at the old man through strands of brown hair falling into his downcast face. Weaver was smirking down at him, there was an odd expression in those weathered line, something like pride, and for the first time in a long time, Jimmy wasn't entirely certain how to interpret the old man.

"Dai and I have been throwing around a lot of ideas lately, talking about the future of the 2nd Mass...if we can even be so bold as to believe we've got much of a future," Weaver said, and Jimmy watched him as he paced a few times, talking in a low and haggard voice, "Well, we keep coming back to this one idea which, for the most part, seems too crazy, but sometimes crazy works, if you understand my meaning."

"Not even remotely, sir."

Captain Weaver cracked a smile and Jimmy smirked faintly in return, feeling a little lost and slightly frustrated. Not only did it seem he wouldn't be playing any real role in the upcoming mission, it was starting to sound like he would also be serving as a guinea pig of some sort. This had to be a cruel joke, any moment now the other fighters would all burst out and scream 'surprise', but then again, he was still waiting for the whole alien invasion thing to be revealed as nothing more than an elaborate reality TV show prank, so either way he wasn't holding his breath, instead he just hoped for the captain to get to a point and soon.

"I'll make this quick, so here's the rundown. For a while now, some of the kids that had been unharnessed have expressed interests in becoming fighters. Problem is I haven't had anyone that could train them; shooting, tactics, battle strategy, you know, the basics. Hal was more than happy to teach Ben, but…well, he's got other concerns," Weaver started pacing again as he spoke, and Jimmy recognized the movement in the other man, it was the way he got when he felt anxious about something, but his voice was all passion, "Understandably, I don't have any other fighters willing to do it…most fighters aren't thrilled about Ben being out there as it is."

"Understandably," Jimmy scoffed. There was nothing 'understandable' about it, as far as he was concerned. Ben had proven himself thrice over, how many more times did he have to save the 2nd Mass before they all got it through their thick-heads he wasn't an alien double-agent?

"I know your feelings on the subject, Jimmy, so let's just skip that unnecessary debate, alright?" Weaver muttered wearily and Jimmy nodded, glancing Dai to gauge the young man's reactions to what the captain was saying, but there were none evident so Jimmy chewed his inner cheek and let the captain continue explanations, "I got four kids eager to pick up guns and start blowing the heads off Skitters, and no one to teach them how to properly pull the trigger. Not to mention, we've seen too many hard battles lately, lost a lot of good fighters out there."

"And we're starting to run low," Jimmy solemnly filled in the sentiment Weaver was languidly tip-toeing around.

"Yes," Weaver murmured agreement.

They fell reverently silent a moment, reflecting on the lost. Dai perked a brow at Jimmy, studying the younger boy a moment, as though assessing him, and Jimmy squirmed slightly. Then Dai dropped his attentions back to the paperwork on the table and Weaver resumed speaking.

"To be honest, on the surface, a lot of the fighters' attitudes seem unjust. Most of the un-harnessed kids, well, they haven't really displayed any of Ben's or Rick's…unique…abilities. Hell, those spikes of theirs fell out, and scabbed over months ago. I guess that's the sad thing about prejudices, they don't have to have reason."

Jimmy nodded distantly, frowning at the ground, as his thoughts wandered to other things altogether. It didn't seem fair that Ben's spikes had remained where the other kids lost theirs.

On sight, Jimmy couldn't pick one of the other unharnessed kids out of the crowd. Without those spikes they were able to slip into anonymity and, for the most part, escape the jeers and dark looks that accompanied being a 'razorback'. Ben couldn't escape, he couldn't pretend he had never worn the harness, one look at him and it was known, whether he was personally recognized or not, because of that awful brand down his spine. Jimmy balled his hands into fists and bit hard into his inner cheek, God, he hated the Skitters.

"Now I'm about to let you in on a secret that I can't have spreading around camp, alright? Those kids are getting it bad enough as it is."

Jimmy perked curiously, his eyes meeting Captain Weaver's, "Sir?"

"Some of them have shown abilities like Ben and Rick, to a lesser extent, yes, but its undoubted they've been affected by the harness. Dr. Glass theorizes – you know how she can be with her theories, almost as bad as Tom, I swear – she thinks that all the kids are showing greater symptoms, but that they're hiding them. They don't have any one that they think they can talk to about it, too scared to show that they might be different, and given certain attitudes in this camp, can you really blame them?"

Jimmy furrowed his brow. This was news to him. He'd written off the unharnessed kids months ago as more faceless civilians, more mouths in the group to feed, more lives to protect because they didn't have the guts or ability to protect themselves. Weaver paused in his pacing suddenly and fixed Jimmy with a hard glare.

"I'm not going to keep things modest; it's just us in here. Me and Dai seem to agree, a rutting miracle that, but we both think that you are one of our best fighters," Weaver said matter-of-factly, and Jimmy's heart skipped a few beats, he found he suddenly couldn't breathe, "You've come a long ways from being that scrawny foul-mouthed runt we picked up in Dorchester."

Jimmy winced, shrugging sheepishly, and the two older men smiled slightly, fondly at him. Their praise warmed through him, and he was sure this would stick with him for the rest of his life as one of his happiest moments, paramount to the first kiss Ben had ever given him; drunken, sloppy, but earth-shattering nonetheless.

"Now I ain't gonna flower this next one up," Weaver sighed, "Your best friend used to be harnessed."

Jimmy flinched, chewing his inner cheek again. Right, there was that. He was starting to see how the pieces of this conversation were fitting together and he wasn't entirely sure he liked the looks of the fully formed image.

"If those kids are going to be trained by anyone, it might as well be one of the best," Weaver said and then dropping his voice low, "And if they're going to open up to anyone, show someone what they're really capable of…well…it's going to be someone who's already proven that he can be trusted with 'one of their own', forgive the phrasing."

Jimmy bit into his cheek a little too hard, blood spilling into his mouth, the familiar metallic taste a strange comfort on his tongue.

"You want me to train the unharnessed kids," he realized.

Weaver put his hands on his hips, tipped his chin down, keeping his eyes locked on Jimmy. Dai glanced up once, features blank and unreadable, and then shifted some of the papers around the desk, writing on the map with a sharpened yellow pencil he had plucked off the desktop.

"Only if you want to," Weaver gently affirmed.

Jimmy wasn't sure how to feel in that moment. Weaver had referred to him as 'one of the best', and that compliment swelled triumphantly through him. No one had actually trained Jimmy to be a fighter, not in any official capacity the way other fighters were trained in the resistance. He'd had to work for all the knowledge he had, following around different fighters and gleaming information off them through careful observation and annoyingly persistent questions.

There were times when fighters had snapped on him because of his pestering, lashing out either verbally or physically, but sometimes eventually, he could wear down some of the fighters with his constant shadowing and pleading, to formally show him something like how to properly fire a gun, fighters like Dai and Anthony, and especially Tom Mason – who never actually took much more than an innocent request, and was already in the midst of training his eldest son Hal at the time, so it wasn't a far cry for him to take two youngsters to the shooting range instead of one.

The whole ordeal of becoming a full-fledged fighter had been a trying process, and even in that moment, as he stood before Weaver and Dai, Jimmy found it hard to believe how far he had come, when it had only been a handful of months ago that he couldn't even so much as line up a shot and pull the trigger when confronted with a Skitter.

Maybe that was why he couldn't shake the nagging doubt that Weaver's praising words weren't the actual truth, and that somehow Weaver was trying to manipulate him, by toying with his emotions.

Jimmy got along with Ben and that seemed to be the more important, and less debatable, of Weaver's admissions. Ben was like a super soldier because of what the harness did to him, and his abilities were a huge benefit to the 2nd Mass. He could do the job of ten fighters, for all the gratitude it got him.

From what Weaver was saying it seemed Weaver wanted Jimmy training the other unharnessed kids in hopes that they would see him as trustworthy because of his close relationship with Ben, another unharnessed kid, and that in that trust reveal themselves to also be super soldiers.

Jimmy didn't want to think that Weaver and Dai were capable of such unscrupulous plotting, but the prospect of it churned sickness in his stomach. He wasn't entirely accustomed to believing good in the motives of others, no matter how highly he regarded and respected them. He had been kicked to the ground too many times to count by those that claimed to care about him to know better than fully investing his trust in another human being.

Jimmy's silence as he mulled over the offer seemed to unnerve Weaver a bit, and the old man took up his pacing again.

"I won't lie to you, Jimmy," Captain Weaver mumbled, "I have high hopes for these kids. Ben is a big help to our cause, his abilities let him get into places and do things that others can't. But I don't want to repeat the tower. Me and Hal fought about it pretty hard before I even asked Ben if he was up for it, and I'll tell you what, if Tom were here he'd pop me one for sending Ben out there alone on a mission like that."

The tower had been a parallel mission to Jimmy's warehouse. Both buildings were in opposite directions from a stretch of road the 2nd Mass needed to get by, and served as waypoints for alien troops. Captain Weaver had come up with a plan that involved taking down both buildings with explosives. Several teams were sent to the warehouse because it was so heavily guarded. Ben went alone to the tower, because he was so…incredibly…stealthy?

At least, that was the lame excuse Jimmy had imagined for the captain as to why Ben was selected to head into an enemy base without so much as a sniper watching his back. Jimmy had been just as furious at the plan as Hal, and part of him wanted to pop Captain Weaver himself.

"If just one of those unharnessed kids can keep up with Ben," Captain Weaver elucidated, and Jimmy felt a strange heaviness drop in the pit of his stomach, "Well, then, we won't have to send him anywhere alone again."

"He doesn't have to go alone now…" Jimmy murmured, but the protest wasn't loud enough for the captain to hear, because honestly, Jimmy knew how pathetic he looked standing next to Ben; the super soldier versus the cadet still stumbling out the academy.

So there it all was, laid out in plain terms. Ben went on the dangerous missions, and Jimmy gained the trust of the other 'razorback freaks' that would go on the dangerous missions with him and when they came back from saving the day, they could all be treated like shit together and Jimmy would be the hero, because that was the best option for the 2nd Mass. And Jimmy always made the choices that best benefitted the 2nd Mass. That's what made him a good fighter, right? Always sacrificing himself.

"Okay," Jimmy whispered. He swallowed down hard the blood spilling into his mouth, sighed and cleared his throat, then lifted his eyes to meet the captain's, "I'll do it."

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A/N: Okay, must hurry because I'm getting ice cream shortly. Yup, so...what do you all think of Jimmy's new assignment? Intriguing? Lame? Let me know!

Reviewers: DancerIntheDark101, an awesome first review, thank you for stopping by! I'm glad you like the development of their relationship. A couple 'Guests' stopped by, the first one kind of sounded like Haley, but I don't know. Thanks to the both of you! JDMlvr1, yeah, I try to hate the little bugger but I knew it was my own fault he chewed through the wire, he wanted to go downstairs and I was trying to post, so he got mad...you know. Stupid cat...but I love him. Facepalmer123, as you wish! IcicleLilly, he certainly is, and Jimmy would flip, but he doesn't have to. TyphoonBoom08, I'll try not to disapoint. WhisperMaw, thank you for the rundown, I'll see what I can do about using it in the story, but it might not happen. We'll see. Heracratzarism, they do make a great team don't they?

Thank you everybody! I have to run because my family is annoying. See you all Sunday!


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Thank you to all of the reviewers. Here is your Sunday update.

Beta'd by Greg, big thanks to him for all his help.

Read.

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V.

Outside of classroom 14A, Jimmy wasn't surprised to find Ben waiting for him several feet down the corridor, pacing aimlessly. Ben perked, faltering to a stop in the middle of the hall as soon as the other boy appeared, the door closing with a light click at his back. They met each other's eyes, exchanged a small smile, one that looked slightly pained on Jimmy.

"I guess I'm not going to be on patrol tonight," Ben began, his voice teetering apologetic, "I spoke to Anthony. He said he's got someone else covering it, I'm not sure who. Hal says we'll have to leave early morning tomorrow, so…"

Jimmy nodded as Ben spoke, walking hesitantly towards the other boy, his eyes trailing along the ground. He came to a stop and leaned against the wall near Ben, never lifting his gaze. He looked like he was sulking and maybe he was, he couldn't be sure of his feelings at that moment, for the most part, he was just numb. He had spent the past fifteen minutes hammering out some details with Weaver about his new assignment. He would start training the unharnessed kids in the morning, around eight o'clock. They would have a classroom, 9C, reserved, Dai would provide any artillery Jimmy felt he would need, and Captain Weaver would clear out the shooting range every day for their use around noontime.

"What did Weaver want?" Ben asked.

Jimmy shook his head, chewing his inner cheek. He couldn't figure out how to explain Weaver's proposition, and part of him wasn't sure Ben would understand or even much like it. He took a deep, shaky breath and, shoving his hands in his pockets, peered up at Ben through shaggy brown hair and thick lashes.

"Tell me that you're really okay with it," he whispered.

"Really okay with what?" Ben wondered, quirking a brow.

"Going out there," Jimmy clarified, "Risking your life. Again."

"I'm gathering intel, Jimmy. Snapping pictures is hardly a death-defying stunt," Ben returned smartly, still confused at the other boy's concerns.

"You know why Weaver is sending you there," Jimmy whispered harshly, folding his arms over his stomach and dropping his eyes to the ground again, "Dai is going to make it look like a legit unit, with a command hierarchy and all that bull, Hal is going to appease all the assholes who don't trust you, 'big brother will keep the razorback in line', and Pope…well, he's just there as back-up, because no one else is insane enough to wander into Skitter territory with three other people and just the rifles on their back. You're the one that's really expected to do all the work, to get in close and investigate that building inside and out. Now tell me you're really okay with that."

"What's there to be okay with?" Ben growled, "You're right, okay. Does that make you happy? I'll probably be the one going down there, but that's fine, no one else can. And if it's what's best for the 2nd Mass-"

"Is that what defines 'okay' now?" Jimmy cut in, ranting haggardly, "No one else can do it so it's okay that you go out there and put your fucking life on the line for a bunch of assholes who couldn't give two shits if you even came back, because no one else can do it."

Ben took a couple steps back, shaking his head angrily and glaring down the hall.

"What is with you right now?" he demanded quietly, and Jimmy looked to him, feeling an odd guilt settle in his stomach and spread painfully across his chest.

It was a good question. Ben didn't need the jarring reminder of what he already knew; the 2nd Mass would happily exploit those self-same abilities of his that they used as excuse for ostracizing him and even more happily leave him behind to a cruel, torturous death.

"Nothing," Jimmy muttered, sighing. He reached out, curled his fingers in Ben's shirt front and Ben reluctantly allowed himself to be dragged forward, their foreheads gently touching, as Jimmy quietly whispered, "Just tell me you're really okay with it. Risking yourself for them."

"It's not for them," Ben murmured, taking Jimmy's hands in his own, pressing their palms together and twining their fingers, "You know that."

Abruptly, Ben pulled away; taking a few steps across the hall and Jimmy folded his hands behind himself, waiting patiently for the group of 2nd Mass civilians he knew Ben had heard coming to turn into the corridor. The three teenagers that appeared had been chattering excitedly in low voices, but they fell silent when they rounded the corner and saw the two boys, eyeing them, or more specifically Ben, warily and shuffling quickly down the hall in silence.

When the group had disappeared from sight, Jimmy closed the distance between himself and Ben and pressed a hasty, clumsy kiss to the other boy's mouth.

"You know," Jimmy mumbled shyly, "Neither of us have anything to do now…not until tomorrow morning."

"Yeah…that's true, I guess," Ben returned, scrunching his brow. He obviously found the comment curious, given that Jimmy hadn't mentioned being taken off patrol, but he didn't press the matter, "And you know, we were rudely interrupted earlier."

"Yeah, it was a little rude," Jimmy agreed.

"A little? It was very rude," Ben argued.

"So…did you still need me to…uh…?" Jimmy trailed his fingertips downward along Ben's shirt front, eyes fixed on the other boy's chest and cheeks blistered with heat, "…take care of…for you?"

"No, actually," Ben answered sharply, "Now that you mention it, I seem to recall being told to take care of that myself."

Jimmy flinched, pulling back slightly, an odd pinch on his heart. He'd been harsh earlier, but it hadn't occurred to him that Ben might actually be angry about it. His stomach knotted and he chewed his inner cheek, hating that feeling jabbing into him. Maybe he had crossed a line that there was no coming back from, things would begin to unravel between them, and he would lose Ben forever.

Ben shifted away and started down the hall, calling smugly over his shoulder, "But, if you still need it, I will gladly take care of…that…for you."

Jimmy flustered, feeling hot headed suddenly. Or maybe Ben was just a vengeful bastard.

"Who says I need you to?" Jimmy snapped, jerking a glare the direction Ben had wandered but the other boy had already turned around the corner out of sight. He sighed petulantly, glared down the empty hall a few seconds, and then begrudgingly followed after Ben.

There were a couple unspoken rules about using the 'First Night'. If the door was open, it was up for use. If the door was closed, it was occupied, do not disturb. Unless you intended to use the First Night there was no lingering around it, for the privacy of others that wanted to use it. If you did happen to see someone going into the First Night, you didn't ask them about it, or tease them, because they may not be aware of the First Night's explicit use, and might let it slip to the wrong people, like Cheryl, and ruin it for everyone.

Jimmy and Ben approached the First Night at the perfect time, most people were inside getting dinner or off on patrol, so the bus's door was open and there wasn't anyone around to spy them climbing onboard, not that that was ever a problem, both boys were fairly skilled at slipping into places unnoticed out of necessity.

Jimmy closed the door and immediately found himself crushed in a breathtaking kiss, Ben's arms wrapped around his shoulders and waist, drawing him into a tight embrace. Their bodies were melded together, flushed, and the heat swarmed their heads and swelled in their abdomens, flooding into eager parts of their bodies anticipating the erotic sensations that were soon to follow that deep, implicit kiss.

Together the boys stumbled to the back of the bus, dropping unnecessary items along the way: guns, knives, loose garments. Jimmy started to remove his shirt and Ben growled low behind him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders from behind and tugging him backwards, pressed against Ben's chest.

Ben set his hands over Jimmy's, guiding them up under the t-shirt and slipping them up along the shivering bare skin there, as Jimmy's continued to draw the fabric upward, Ben's hands dragged back down along that same pale flesh, his mouth dropping kisses up along Jimmy's spine and across his shoulder blades.

Jimmy tugged his shirt entirely off and let it fall to the floor, gasping involuntarily as Ben held him in place and claimed his neck between tightly grasping teeth, sucking and gnawing at the skin.

"Ben," Jimmy complained, his voice barely a whisper as he gulped in air, half-heartedly pushing the other boy's mouth away, commanding, "…not another one."

Ben let out another almost frustrated growl that rumbled in his chest, and he spun Jimmy around, pressing a hard kiss to the other boy's mouth, walking them back until Jimmy slammed roughly against the far back of the bus. Jimmy grimaced at the hit to his shoulder blades, but never broke away from Ben's insistent hold on his mouth. Ben's actions so-far were a little more passionate than his usual gentle fervor, but Jimmy didn't dwell on why that might be, chalking it up to pent-up sexual frustration from their earlier encounter.

"Can't help it," Ben murmured hot against Jimmy's lips, before trailing kisses back down to Jimmy's neck, "You taste good."

Jimmy flustered at the confession, the heat rushing from the roots of his hair to the very tips of his toes. He wrapped his hands in Ben's t-shirt and tugged at it meaningfully, moaning when Ben's tongue dragged along his collar, down his sternum, and then paused to thoughtfully taste a slightly hardened nipple that was then teased gently between teeth.

"Oh shit…Ben," Jimmy whimpered, eyes widening slightly, surprised at the new action and, with his hands underneath Ben's shirt, his fingernails sunk into Ben's exposed back in response. Ben groaned, playfully lapping at the tender nipple once more before he claimed Jimmy's mouth again, pushing the boy firmly against the back of the bus and holding him there with his entire body.

Jimmy gestured Ben's shirt again, jerking on the fabric almost angrily, and Ben grunted, pulling back a moment, his look exasperated, as he relented, ripped the garment away, and tossed it aside.

"So stubborn," he muttered, sinking against Jimmy once more and eagerly dove his tongue into Jimmy's mouth and seeking the deepest crevices of that warm, slick orifice to explore and press into until Jimmy was finally forced to surface, gasping desperately for air.

Ben fumbled with Jimmy's trouser button, giving the other boy a chance to catch his breath, before pushing another kiss against his mouth, and undoing his trousers altogether. He slipped his hand along the top edge, loosening the garment and absently brushing against Jimmy's erection as he worked at exposing it, causing the other boy to shudder and murmur hot and ecstatic against Ben's lips. Ben knew the other boy was close to the edge, and the thought of it only served to further excite him, flooding heat into his own throbbing arousal.

God, Ben loved the sound of Jimmy panting, moaning, whimpering, he loved the feel of the other boy, soft and vulnerable, wriggling beneath him, he loved the smell of that boy, the same as his taste, a strangely perfect mix of salty and sweet, like caramel popcorn. Ben's senses were on overdrive, and every sensation was Jimmy. Adrenaline rushed through him, an endless stream of energy.

As Ben's fingers encircled Jimmy's hard-on, working it in and out, his mouth found skin to press against, to massage, to suckle. Jimmy distantly returned the attentions at first but eventually his own mouth simply latched onto Ben's shoulder, his eyes squeezed tightly shut as he peaked, his teeth biting into flesh hard enough to draw blood, his typical bizarre attempt to contain any verbal reaction, his fingers raking lightly down Ben's backside, body shuddering with the orgasm, seed spilling on the bus floor.

Jimmy grimaced, vaguely, oddly noting, "…have to clean that…"

"You'll have to clean that," Ben corrected, amusedly, smirking as he felt Jimmy's fingers awkwardly toying with his own trouser buttons.

Jimmy watched his own hands dazedly as they attempted to undo Ben's trousers, his forehead rest heavy against Ben's shoulder. After a couple seconds, to somewhat still his fleeting heartbeats, Ben brought his own hands down to help Jimmy, despite the disgruntled glare he received, and he kissed Jimmy frantically as Jimmy worked at his erection.

Jimmy's touch was this strange kind of agonizing. His hand lingered in all the right ways, along all the right areas, masterfully drawing out every erotic sensation in one simple, back and forth motion. His mouth perfectly complimented the actions of his hand, pressing flighty, butterfly kisses across Ben's jawline, nibbling his ear, faintly dotting his cheeks and nose, and gently massaging his mouth. When Ben finally peaked, everything Jimmy had built up inside of him, ripped out and dragged with it a low, bellowing groan that thundered in the back of his throat and down into his chest and stomach. Then he collapsed against Jimmy, spent.

"…and I'll clean that," Ben joked after a moment in a low, haggard tone and Jimmy laughed a bit, though it sounded faraway.

Ben straightened; kissed Jimmy, a sweet, innocent thing, without expectation, and then they broke apart and cleaned themselves a bit, adjusting and redoing their trousers.

Jimmy started for his shirt, but staggered suddenly towards one of the seats and fell onto it, about toppling over backwards except Ben swept swiftly forward and caught hold of him, kneeling beside the seat to grip the other boy's arm and net a hand behind his head. Seated upright, Jimmy's forehead fell lazily forward onto Ben's shoulder. Ben frowned, his brow wrinkled, as he stared down at the other boy in concern.

"You okay?" he wondered, an almost imperceptible quake in his soft voice.

"Yeah," Jimmy murmured, "Just…suddenly…really tired."

"You don't sleep enough," Ben remarked and Jimmy rolled his eyes but said nothing.

They sat like that a few moments, Ben loosely cradling Jimmy against him, providing a much needed support. Then a sound at the bus door front startled them, Jimmy pulling back and the boys' eyes locked, widened. The door started to swing open, and someone could be heard at its front, beginning to clamber up the stairs.

"Who the hell…?" Jimmy hissed, as he dropped instinctively to the floor between the seats, his slender body squeezing easily into the cramped space. He pulled his knees up to himself hopefully out of sight and leaned his head back heavily against the bus wall.

"The fucking door was shut," Ben griped, sliding up onto the seat beside Jimmy, rolling over to his back, leaning up a bit to keep his spikes off the seat, and pulling his legs in, relaxing his own head against the bus wall.

From their positions, Ben and Jimmy couldn't see the two figures that had clambered onto the darkened bus, but they heard the door slide shut, and then the hushed conversation that followed.

"What are we doing here, Jamil?" a soft, shaky voice questioned, "I'm still needed in the infirmary…"

'Lourdes', Ben mouthed at Jimmy and Jimmy pulled an incredulous face.

'No fucking way,' he returned silently.

This had to be a moment for the history books, an event of biblical proportions, paramount to that first day when God declared 'let there be light'. Lourdes, 2nd Mass's very own Virgin Mary, was onboard the First Night with, from the sounds of things, a strapping young man. Though neither boy was very familiar with Jamil, they knew he was a handy-man of sorts around camp; he helped out Uncle Scott a lot.

As far as they were aware, he had no known connection with Lourdes, but the twenty-something year old girl was friendly with everyone and the boys didn't actually pay all that much attention to her interactions, so it wasn't outside the realm of possibility that she'd formed some bond with Jamil at some unknown time.

Ben and Jimmy exchanged a look, were they about to bear witness to Lourdes's Christening into a life of lust and sin? Ben wrinkled his nose in disgust and Jimmy smirked at him.

"I just wanted to talk," Jamil replied, his voice low and husky.

'Yeah right,' Jimmy mouthed and Ben bit on his own hand to stifle a laugh, silently slapping the other boy's shoulder as a warning to: shut up.

"Make sure you were alright," Jamil continued, his tone lined with emotion, "I know it's been hard on you lately, all the wounded coming in…all the recent deaths."

"It has been hard," Lourdes confirmed, she was walking around the front, her footsteps could be heard clacking against the bus floor, "But I guess these are the times we live in." She faltered, her voice breaking a little as she whispered, "I have to believe that there is some greater purpose to all this madness. There's a reason for everything."

Ben glanced to Jimmy, who had pressed himself as far back into the bus wall as he could, his eyes screwed tightly shut.

_Reason for everything_.

Ben wanted to hate Lourdes for that statement and for the reaction it created in the other boy. It was foolish to think that way; it broke hearts to think that way. There was no reason, none that was good anyhow, to take from a thirteen year old boy everything, heart and soul, displace him entirely, and then force his hand to end the life of the one person who ever loved him completely, unfalteringly, and without condition. And if Lourdes really wanted to spout that crap within Jimmy's hearing, well then, the Skitters could have her.

"Well, I think I know the reason for me," Jamil announced earnestly. He paused, took a few steps, towards Lourdes presumably, maybe snatched up her hands in his own, looked deep into her eyes, "The greater purpose intended for me, when those aliens invaded. It was so I could meet you."

Ben softened his gaze on Jimmy, feeling his initial anger unravel. Jimmy flinched slightly at the words, his features loosened but his eyes remained closed. He had his arms folded over his stomach, his fingernails biting into the flesh of his own forearm.

"I know it sounds terrible," Jamil confessed, "Maybe even a little selfish. After all the lives that were lost, all the horrors that we've witnessed...but, I can't help feeling that…in a way, it could be almost worth it, because the one good thing that came from it was having you in my life."

Maneuvering wasn't easy in the cramped space, especially when trying to be noiseless about it, but somehow Ben managed to shift himself so that he could brush a kiss to Jimmy's temple. Jimmy stirred, peeking his eyes open thinly to meet Ben's intense gaze.

"Jamil…" Lourdes murmured, clearly awestruck by the romantic words.

Ben held his hand out, his eyes locked on Jimmy's, a meaningful emotion surging through them, and tentatively Jimmy lifted his own hand up to meet Ben's, watching interestedly as their palms fitted together; a perfect match.

"We probably never would've met if not for the war," Jamil insisted, "And for me, that's reason enough."

The boys laced their fingers and Ben buried his face against Jimmy, as Jimmy leaned into him. They could hear Jamil and Lourdes at the front of the bus, from the sounds of things exchanging a brief kiss before they would head back into camp, but who were Jimmy and Ben to care what was between those other two? They had their own reasons.

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A/N: Okie, no double update this weekend. I know, I know...but I'm kind of hoping the overdose of Ben/Jimmy lovin' will tide you all over until next Sunday. Anyhow, I kind of like this chapter because of the emotions that come out but I kind of don't because it almost feels out of place to me (it probably could've been better off as a one-shot). I wanted certain things to be expressed out loud between the boys, but I knew neither one would say these kinds of things (maybe a drunk Ben would but otherwise...) so I needed someone else to say it, hence, Lourdes and Jamil. Also, I kind of liked Jamil, so this way I was able to intro his character and give a sucrose drenched Ben/Jimmy moment.

Right, tell me what you all think!

Also, to kind of put into perspective how much longer this story is going to be than First Patrol: First Patrol was roughly 109,000 words finished, this story is already at roughly 95,000 words and its not even a third of the way finished yet. Admittedly, it is a far more complex story than First Patrol. So, yeah, I hope most of you like long stories.

Reviewers, whom are my lifeblood: WhisperMaw, I won't even pretend to understand the playoffs being distracting...not much for watching sports, sorry. Oh well, I'm glad you were able to pry your eyes from the game long enough to drop in, tho :) ! DancerIntheDark101, cool, I'm really glad to hear you dig it. I hope how the assignment plays out doesn't disappoint. Haley, it was the "awwww" that gave it away. I'm glad to hear you're excited, because I've got some big plans for both Jimmy and Ben in this story! IcicleLilly, I always worry that I've got the characters wrong, so I'm relieved that you think I write a good Weaver. Thank you! Cookie97, it _is_ sad for Ben and depressing about Jimmy. If it eases things a little, Jimmy trusts Ben more than anyone else. That's a good insight on the Jimmy inner cheek thing. Yes, Ben would feel it when they kiss, but no, he would not say anything. Facepalmer123, thank you, I will try! Heracratzarism, glad you think so...I can't answer that question, you'll just have to wait and see. :) Guest, I'm sorry, no double update this time. I hope you won't cry tho! You'll have to wait a little longer to see how Jimmy's new work and Ben get along.

Thanks for stopping by everyone! I'll see you all next Sunday.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Hello all, I'm so tired right now. Right, it's Sunday, which can only mean one - of many - things: update! Yay, rejoice.

Thank you to all of the reviewers, you guys are rock awesome.

And another thank you to Greg for beta-ing this chapter.

Read.

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VI.

Five and a half kilometers outside of base camp, Ben slowed in his run to a steady stride, which faltered eventually into a stealthy saunter. He slung his rifle butt into the crook of his arm and lifted its barrel out ahead of himself, hand curling easily around the barrel, fingering the trigger and resting his cheek against the stock to gaze down its sight.

There were five Skitters in the area. Two moving together roughly forty yards away, around what looked to be a preschool building, the other three were moving separately of one another, several yards between each of them, and sprawled out around a nearby park area.

Ben slid his gun up across his back once more and removed the knife he kept buckled to his upper thigh. He treaded light and breathed shallow, as he slunk through the shadows towards the first Skitter in the park, lingering around the jungle gym. Skitters could hear almost as well as he could, so if they weren't yet aware of his advancement, and from the casual sounds of their movement it seemed they had yet to notice him, then one misplaced step or sharp intake of air could alert them to his presence and steal his one advantage over them: surprise.

When the Skitter was in sight, its six legs scurrying over the top of the jungle gym, Ben moved quickly forward and attacked with his blade held out in front of him, in a parrying stance. The Skitter reeled to counter, but Ben was too swift, dodging the Skitter's initial, clumsy strike and driving his knife down its throat.

The next Skitter was on him before he had time to even pull his knife back, feeling the Skitter claw rake across his side and reach for his throat. Ben sliced his blade outward in a large arc, wrestling the squirming creature backwards then knocking it with the butt of his rifle. He stumbled to the ground, spun his rifle round, and let off several rounds before finally managing to get a bullet in the Skitter's head.

The third Skitter was racing towards Ben by the time he scrambled to his feet, and he unloaded a few more bullets into that one before it too dropped not even a yard away from him. He heard the other two en route and raced for cover amongst the trees lining the park.

Ben fired the last of his rounds into the first of the Skitter pair, and then bolted forward, using the empty gun as a club to battle his last remaining opponent. He bashed one of the Skitter's legs and it screamed, a bloodcurdling, high-pitched hiss, and slapped him with one of its claws, then barreled down on Ben, pinning him to the jungle gym and drawing itself up for a final attack.

Without thought, Ben struck with his blade and the Skitter collapsed, black blood spilling from its oral cavity over his own gashed open arm.

Ben reeled away from the dead Skitters, fighting the rising bile in his throat, shuddering against a chill breeze and stumbling towards the edge of the park, clutching his sweat-drenched, shaking body. He spat a clot of blood to the ground and inspected himself. The injury on his arm was child's play, cleaned up it wouldn't even be noticeable under his long-sleeved shirt. One of the Skitters had managed to rip their claws into his side, however, and from the sharp feel of the jagged flesh, he worried he might be favoring the wound a while.

Cleaning the blade of his knife off against his pant leg and re-sheathing it, Ben staggered down the winding, unfamiliar streets, and began back towards base camp. One of the houses in the area had a pool in the backyard, and though it hadn't been maintained in well over seven or eight months, it was water.

He used the green, algae infested pool, better classified as a pond now, to hastily wash away as much evidence of his nightly escapade as possible. It didn't need to be perfect, just enough to get him back into camp without calling too much attention to his disheveled form. Not many people stopped to stare long at Ben when he passed anyhow, ducking their heads when he wandered by, as though looking at him directly were enough to pass on his alien-altered DNA.

Once beyond the camp perimeter, it was a matter of getting to his tent without running into one of his brothers, Dr. Glass, Maggie, or Jimmy. His heightened hearing made that an easy enough dodge, for the most part he just avoided anything that sounded like people, though he assumed Matt was in bed, and everyone not on patrol was inside the community center shooting the breeze or sleeping as well.

Ben had a first aid kit in his tent. He used it to bandage his arm, as well as the three bright red gashes that ran the length of his mid-waist up along his left-backside, and then he discarded the t-shirt he'd been wearing, shredded on that one side by the Skitter claws. He tugged on his long-sleeved shirt and then startled to his feet at the sound of footsteps advancing softly towards his tent.

The tent opening fluttered, Ben spun abruptly around and tried not to appear too guilty when facing his guest.

He scowled, "What do you want?"

Hal stood at the front of the tent, his brow raised sharply and expression befuddled, as though he were surprised to find Ben in his own tent. After a moment to recover from his initial stun, Hal folded his arms over his chest and glared down his nose at Ben.

"Where the hell have you been?" Hal demanded.

"On patrol," Ben hastily lied. Hal blinked, his frown deepened significantly, and his forehead wrinkled as his brow shot farther up.

"Really?" Hal challenged, "Because you were taken off patrol tonight. So try again."

Ben sighed, turning from his older brother and pacing towards the back of his tent a few steps, "I know. But I felt restless, so I went for a walk around the perimeter."

"Right," Hal drawled, brow falling into a furrow, "Because according to Jimmy, when I talked to him in the mess hall a couple hours ago, you told him you were exhausted and wanted to go to bed early so you would be fully rested for tomorrow's assignment. How is it that you were exhausted then, but you're restless now?"

Ben winced, he hated lying; he was never very good at it. It was hard enough coming up with something that Jimmy would buy when they climbed off the bus together several minutes after Lourdes and Jamil finally left.

Jimmy had wanted to grab some dinner but Ben was still teeming with energy, it practically poured out of his ears, pooling at his feet, and he needed to do something with it before he burst. He knew if he had told Jimmy his plans, Jimmy would want to come, hell, he would demand it, and the other boy was in no condition to go on a nightly hunt, the same as he was in no condition to take the brunt of Ben's energies again, otherwise they would have never gotten off that bus.

"Well yeah, that is what I said," Ben murmured, trying to remember some of the pointers Jimmy had given him about lying, such as, stick as much to the truth as possible, "And that is…because…I lied to him."

"What?"

Ben took a deep breath, fixed his expression, spun around and met his brother's eyes with a light smirk.

"I lied to him," he repeated more firmly, shrugging, and expanding on his candid statement, "Jimmy was the one that was exhausted, but you know how he is, he would never admit it. So I told him that I was tired because I figure that way he would have nothing better to do than go lay down himself."

Hal didn't look entirely convinced, but he was starting to look as though he was losing interest in pursuing the matter. He placed his hands on his hips and shook his head, studying the ground a moment. Ben felt a groan coming on, he knew that expression quickly edging into Hal's features, and it was almost identical to the one their mom used to wear when she was gearing up to chastise the boys.

"Isn't this exactly what I warned you about, Ben?" Hal seethed, "If you and Jimmy hadn't been taken off patrol tonight…"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Ben cut in, "Fine, you were right. You win. Jimmy's only human and I'm not. You're wise and all-knowing, and I have no clue what I'm doing. No more fooling around before patrol. I got it. Was that all, or did you have another reason for being here?"

Hal ruffled at the snappy interruption, his eyes boring a hole into his younger brother. Ben folded his arms over his chest, dropping his gaze to the ground, toeing the tent floor with his mud-encrusted boot. There was a rock underneath the tarp, and he attempted to nudge it back and forth, but it was half buried in earth and refused to move.

"I came here earlier to talk to you about tomorrow," Hal said, shoving his hands in his pockets, he wet his lips and continued haggardly, "But you weren't here…"

"Well I'm here now," Ben muttered, rubbing his face with the keel of his hand, "So talk."

"I just wanted to set some ground rules for the mission," Hal growled and Ben rolled his eyes.

"Like what?"

"Like keep your mouth shut and listen to what I tell you to do," Hal sneered.

"Those are your ground rules?" Ben shot back dubiously, "Those are the same ground rules you have for everything, Hal; that you have had for everything since we were kids, and I haven't followed them once yet, what makes you think I'm going to start now."

"You're going to start now because tomorrow we'll be out there with Pope," Hal replied sharply and Ben wavered, swallowing down hard the next comeback set on his tongue. He hated when his brother had a point, "The guy is off-balance. I don't know what Weaver is thinking sending him with us."

Ben snorted softly and recalled Jimmy's words from earlier that day, "He's thinking that Pope is the only one crazy enough to wander into Skitter-territory with only three kids and the rifles strapped to their backs."

"I guess," Hal returned, "Pope can drop a Skitter better than anyone, true, but he'd just as soon drop me or you. Don't forget that. Weaver might think it's a good idea to send Pope with us as our strong arm, as some kind of protection, but we cannot trust him," he shook his head at the floor and grumbled, "He's been giving you dirty looks since we brought you back and took that harness off."

"Him and everyone else," Ben mentioned under his breath. Hal perked a brow at him, but decided to ignore the near inaudible comment.

"I'm serious, Ben. It worries me," Hal persisted, "I don't want you near Pope. Don't look at him, don't talk to him. Dai can keep him in line for the most part, but he's going to try to goad you and you cannot respond."

"I'll be fine," Ben griped, exasperated, "I can handle it."

Hal narrowed his eyes on his brother, "I don't think you can. He is going to be watching you like a hawk, Ben, remember that. Scrutinizing your every move. Anything you do that he can take back to camp and twist around, he will. So keep your head down and stay close to me. You got that?"

Ben shook his head, shoving his hands, balled into tight fists, deep into his pockets. He glared heatedly at his brother, his heart slamming against his chest enraged. He had this sudden image of himself as a child being sent to bed without any supper and he didn't like the positioning of his brother in that image.

"Well, Ben?" Hal pressed, "You got it?"

"No," Ben hissed, "I don't actually."

Hal wrinkled his brow again, the muscle in the corner of his mouth twitching, a spasm that occurred when he was extremely frustrated.

"I can handle myself, Hal, I'm not a stupid kid," Ben raged.

"You…"

"And you're not dad, so stop acting like it!"

Ben clamped his mouth shut hard and Hal flinched back, dropping his chin downward and slumping his shoulders slightly. A chill settled over them, a world-defining silence that echoed in their ears. They didn't often speak about their father to one another, not at all if they could help it, not after word came back about their father's decision to climb aboard an alien space craft, not after the reason came out to be 'protecting Ben'.

Ben wasn't entirely sure how Hal felt about that turn of events, but he knew his older brother well enough to know that if Hal avoided a subject with someone, it was because he was too mad at that person about it for words. Hal blamed Ben for their father being missing and, honestly, Ben couldn't disagree with him on it.

Hal shifted his weight, his clothes rustling loudly at the movement. He turned to the side and peered disinterestedly up at the corner of the tent's roof. Ben tried to stop his heart's frantic attempts to burrow its way out of his chest. His whole body prickled with icicles that grew outward from his inner core.

"I'm just trying to look out for you," Hal finally said, his voice low and distant.

Ben scowled, shuddered with his pent up anger, and begrudgingly relented, "I know."

Another silence fell between them. Ben went back to the rock under the tent. Hal wandered a few steps away, eyes trailing over the mess around him. Ben had never been a very tidy person, his few articles of clothing were strewn haphazardly around the ground, his sleeping bag was rumpled and bunched together, he had a few books that he'd looted from various locations stacked here and there, they were severely tattered and the pages were all dog-eared, and he couldn't claim that the damage had been done before he picked them up.

"About Jimmy…" Hal began and Ben's heart cinched, his body tensing, and senses suddenly on high alert.

"What about Jimmy?"

Hal sighed and shook his head, looking askance at his brother, "You know, when I heard the storage rooms were on lock down, I thought it was for the best, I wouldn't have to worry about you goofing around anymore, but now I find out you've just been going to the 2nd Mass's version of lover's lane…Ben, you got to stay out of that bus."

"Why?" Ben jeered, folding his arms over his chest, pulling his shoulders back and glaring intimidatingly across the tent at his brother.

"Because…we talked about this," Hal said.

"Yeah, we did talk about this," Ben replied smartly, "And we agreed that what was between me and Jimmy was none of your business."

"That is not what we agreed!"

"It's what I agreed," Ben snapped, he jerked his head away from his brother and said plaintively, "Because that's exactly what it is: none of your goddamned business."

"No, what we agreed was that you wouldn't let it become a distraction, but whether you realize it or not, Ben, that's what it's becoming now. A distraction," Hal argued, "It's getting out of hand. You're sneaking around camp; goofing off…you're neglecting your responsibilities."

"We're not neglecting anything," Ben protested.

"Aren't you the one that just told me Jimmy was exhausted tonight? And you're going to tell me, what? That it has nothing to do with the both of you fooling around so much?" Hal retorted. He faltered, shook his head at the ground and said steadily, "You're young Ben. It's bad enough that you have to be out there killing, fighting, having to act like an adult on the battlefield, but then you come back to camp and, what? Act like an adult in the bedroom – I'm sorry, back of the bus – too? Do you even know what you're doing? Are you even being safe…?"

"Oh, hell, Hal, what is the fucking problem?" Ben cried, "It's not like I can get him pregnant!"

Hal's face blanched, his mouth pressed together into a white line that trembled with a barely contained rage.

"Is that how far it's gotten?" he demanded.

Ben blinked rapidly, fluttering his eyelids, flabbergasted. His mouth opened and closed a few times before he gasped, "What? No…I don't know. Shit. Why would you even ask that?"

"Because I'm worried about you," Hal explained fervently, "You're a kid, Ben, why do you need to be in such a rush? You're both young, you don't need to be doing these kinds of things now, you should be doing kid's stuff, for crying out loud, you've got your whole lives-"

"Are you sure of that?" Ben shot back and Hal's expression fell, as Ben wandered away, choking out, "Jimmy almost died three weeks ago. Hell, I could die tomorrow. Every time I close my eyes to sleep, I wonder if I'll wake up in the morning. Every time I wake up, I wonder if this'll be it, if this'll be my last day…if it'll be his. You know, I don't even want to leave his side half the time because when we go our separate ways, I can't help wondering if that's going to be the last time I ever see him again. Our whole lives, Hal? We don't even know if we have today."

"The fact that you've been thinking like that, Ben, does not convince me that you should be out there screwing around with him," Hal said sternly.

"Really? And you don't think that's a bit hypocritical of you," Ben snarled, "I mean, what about Karen?"

Hal darted his eyes up to meet Ben's, a panic swirling in their dark brown depths. Ben smirked almost cruelly; he knew he'd caught his brother by surprise, and that he may have just won the argument, if that expression were any indication.

"Yes, Hal. I heard about her. She was taken by the Skitters, harnessed, right? You're honestly going to tell me that before that, you didn't do anything with Karen. Anything at all?" Ben pressed, "And can you honestly tell me that if you hadn't, you wouldn't have regretted it?"

"You're going to want to drop this topic, Ben," Hal whispered.

"Why? You've never mentioned her to me. Is it because you don't want me to repeat your mistakes, or is it because you don't think they were mistakes and you don't want me to know, because then you'd have no room to argue?" Ben persisted.

"I don't mention her," Hal began sharply, momentarily flicking his eyes away from his younger brother, "Because the last time I saw her…" he looked to Ben again, a faraway sadness tinting his features, "You were dragging her away."

Without another word, Hal spun on his heel and briskly exited the tent, leaving Ben behind, stunned speechless and feeling as though someone had punched him in the gut.

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A/N: Yes, Hal is mean. I really do try to write him as a nice, caring brother, but I suppose he just comes off as an overprotective jerk. Oh well. Um...real quick, yeah...so...Ben has been lying to Jimmy. If you'll all recall, Jimmy has serious trust issues. Lying to a person - no matter how much of their best interest you had at heart - is never a good idea. Just saying. Always be honest to your loved ones with trust issues.

Anyhow, as always, tell me what you think.

Dear reviewers: Maika-LunaRota, I'm glad you really liked that scene! JDMlvr1, lol, yeah...it was a bit...romantic...I guess. Blech, romance...I'll take the smut any day. Haley, hahahahaha! Oh good, glad to hear it. Heracratzarism, awesome! Facepalmer123, I had a feeling you would say that. IcicleLilly, aw, no love for Jamil? I think Lourdes shacking up in the back of a bus would be a bit out of character for her though, ne? Good to hear you liked the chappie and that you're up for a long tale. Cookie97, I was worrying I hadn't seen your review all week. Glad you liked the chapter and that you agree...the boys just need a lot more time before they could be so forthright with one another emotionally. Maybe they'll get there one day.

Okay, brief announcement: I am going to be starting bi-weekly updates (that's two a week). I'm going to start posting a chapter on Thursdays, as well as, the Sunday chapters. And cue rejoicing villagers...oi vey, I have a headache.

Right, so I will see you all Thursday. Have a good one!


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Thank you to the reviewers, you guys are awesome as always. Here is the Thursday update.

Real quick announcement: November starts NaNoWriMo. If you do not know what NaNoWriMo is and you're a writer, punch it into google and find out, then participate! And if you do know what it is and you're a writer, I suggest you participate! Anyhow, I plan on semi-participating this year. I won't actually be starting a novel, I plan on writing the 1600 words a day in the form of short stories that I hope to post on my blog...yes, I have a blog. If anyone's interested, here's the link (remove spaces...): www . dastardlyreads . com

I update it infrequently, (no time, I swear) and some of what I've written recently is crap, but hey, go see what I do when I'm not writing fanfic.

Chapter beta'd by Greg, huge thanks to him. He didn't really like this chapter, so I hope you guys at least enjoy it...

Read.

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VII.

It was almost eight o'clock and Jimmy would have to go meet his 'students' soon. He sat outside the community center gnawing his inner cheek raw and ragged, staring distantly at the gray horizon, which splintered with a pinkish hue as the sun rose. He'd spent the entire night ticking off the hours, and he wondered how he might look at that moment, sallow skin and bloodshot eyes. Maybe it would work for him, maybe his students would see him as the eccentric fighter and listen to his every word out of fear he might snap and kill them all.

Or maybe they would see him for what he really was, a worthless kid too afraid to sleep at night.

All around, Jimmy could hear the 2nd Mass stirring to life. He sniffled, his nose running from the nighttime chill, and his shoulders tensed a moment, then he lifted himself up and stretched. He could smell breakfast cooking; they would be having canned beans apparently. Several civilians were already wandering around camp, beginning their daily chores.

Jimmy wandered around the community center, brow furrowed, nodding acknowledgment to passerby that offered him a 'good morning'. He spotted a small gathering of fighters around the backside of the building and meandered towards them.

"Hey, Jimmy, how's it going?" the first one to notice Jimmy greeted.

"Hi guys," Jimmy returned, shoving his hands in his pockets and scrunching his shoulders up meekly as he questioned, "Any of you got a cigarette?"

One of the boy's, a blond named Mick, raised his brow, "You're still smoking kid? I'd hoped you'd of quit by now."

Jimmy shrugged response, accepting an offered cigarette from the darkest featured of the gathered boys, Tony.

"What?" Tony pressed when Mick smacked his shoulder and gave him a meaningful look, "He's more likely to die by Skitter claws than lung cancer. Let the kid have a smoke."

"Besides, I'm down to like one every few days," Jimmy added, then set the cigarette betwixt his lips and prompted, "Light?"

"Only thing left in this world in abundance: cigarettes and porn," Helena, the only girl in the group, commented, "What'd'ya suppose that says about our society…or the one that we had before?"

Mick tugged a lighter from his pocket and flicked on a flame, igniting the tip of Jimmy's cigarette. It burned a cherry red, and Jimmy took a short drawl, removing it anxiously between two fingers and quickly expelling the smoke.

"You know, they say these'll stunt your growth," Mick remarked, indicating the cigarette in his own hand, and Jimmy rolled his eyes, taking another toke.

"I started smoking when I was eleven, whatever damage it'll do is already done," he remarked easily.

"Shit. Eleven," Tony gaped, and then teasing, "So you were always a little punk then, huh? And here I thought the war was what hardened you."

Jimmy shuffled uncomfortably and flicked the ashes off the tip of his cigarette, taking a long drawl and savoring the feel of the smoke curling its way down his throat and warming inside his chest. He'd never mentioned things like that before, never talked about himself before the invasion, not that it usually came up in conversation, but it was easier for him to just keep it all bottled inside and pushed into the darkest recess of his mind, hidden away from even himself. Lately, it had been coming out more and he wasn't sure how he felt about it.

"Advanced team is on its way out," Helena noted and the gathered fighters all turned to follow her gaze across camp.

Jimmy felt his heart jump to his throat at the sight of Ben, wandering towards the bikes with Hal, where Dai and Pope were waiting. He lowered his eyes and flustered, taking several quick hits off the cigarette, just barely drawing the smoke in before violently shooting it back out.

Ben hated when Jimmy smoked, commented once that he could taste it on his tongue like a thousand ashtrays. He only said it the once because Jimmy had avoided him for two days afterwards, smoking the entire time out of spite, but the words lingered in the back of Jimmy's mind, a constant stinging rejection.

"It seems weird," Helena whispered, "Trusting our lives in the hands of that kid. It almost doesn't seem right. He's so young, you know?"

"Better him than me," Tony mused, with a careless smirk.

Jimmy flinched, taking one last drawl of his cigarette, before stubbing it out on the wall and sending a dark look at the older boy.

"It is better him than you," Jimmy noted sharply, "We'd all be dead if it was you. Thanks for the cigarette, asshole."

"What's his problem?" Tony murmured to the other fighters, who shrugged response.

Jimmy shoved his hands in his pockets and stalked up towards the community center, watching out of the corner of his eyes as Ben mounted one of those bikes and kicked it into gear, then the four together roared off down the road and into the horizon. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Ben was off to do his job, now Jimmy just needed to focus on his own.

Inside of the community center, there was more hustle and bustle, civilians rushing around attending to their daily activities. Many of the younger children had started up a game of hide-and-seek, and were running rampant through the halls, laughing and playing without a care in the world. One of the small girls raced around a corner, ramming headfirst into Jimmy, and he just barely caught her before she tumbled back to the ground.

"Watch yourself," he warned, straightening the girl and ruffling her hair. She grinned up at him impishly, squeezed out of his grasp, and sprinted off down the corridor. He smirked; shaking his head, then scowled and set his eyes forward, stalking along his own path.

Outside of 9C, Jimmy paced uncertainly. He reached for the knob, hand shaking, pulled back, and shook his head, paced a few more times. He wasn't entirely certain that someone was waiting on the other side of that door, but he didn't know if he could go in and face them just yet.

Personally, Jimmy didn't know any of the other unharnessed kids. He wouldn't be able to pick them from the crowd. He had known a few things about them, that they were all roughly his own age, maybe a year or two older. Two of them were boys, two were girls. Weaver had given Jimmy their names, brief descriptions, and a quick overview of their personalities – not that Weaver was the most reliable source on such information. Jimmy honestly wasn't entirely sure what to expect of them.

Jimmy sighed, rubbing his hands together, and deciding it was time to bite the bullet; he was already ten minutes late. He placed his hand on the knob, gave it a twist, took a deep breath, and pushed the door in, entering the classroom.

Four pairs of eyes turned onto Jimmy the instant he tentatively stepped inside the room, eight bright spotlight beams burning a hole right through his humility. He let the door shut heavily behind him with a click that resounded loudly in his ears and he pressed himself instinctively back against it, sweeping his eyes over the four teenagers before him. His first impression of them was not a polite one: haggard, weatherworn, rough around the edges. If it were at all possible, they looked worse off than any other member of the 2nd Mass.

In a way, their disheveled appearance made sense and Jimmy felt he should've foreseen it.

When Ben had been unharnessed, it was to be returned to his family, his father and brothers. When the others rescued along with him were unharnessed, it was to be returned to no one. Half of the 2nd Mass made it publicly clear they didn't want the unharnessed children there, the other half were outwardly congenial, but they wouldn't go out of their way to ease the unharnessed children's experiences in camp.

So where did that put those four teenagers? Between a rock and a hard place. Jimmy had been there – an orphan himself. He understood; he imagined their first impression of him was not unlike his own of them.

It took him a moment, but Jimmy actually recognized them. He had seen them hanging out on the outskirts of camp, the fringe of the 2nd Mass. They were always together. To be honest, he'd never taken much notice of them; there were a lot of loner types in the community. People tried their damndest to get along with one another, but small cliques naturally formed. This clique, however, had probably formed by default than out of an actual close kinship developed over time and fueled by complimentary personalities and shared interests. On the outset, they were quite an eclectic group. So distinct from one another were they that Jimmy had no problem identifying each one from Weaver's descriptions.

The tall, lanky boy with stringy brown hair was Douglas, he was fifteen. He had been the shortest of the children when rescued, but shot up nearly a foot and a half seemingly overnight a month or so ago. He had a long face and huge chocolate brown eyes that stared blankly, taking in the world in large gulps. In an odd way, he reminded Jimmy of a moose. Weaver had warned that Douglas was very cynical, perhaps because he was the most intellectual of the four, and that Jimmy should be prepared for his bouts of depression and lengthy pessimistic diatribes. Jimmy was kind of hoping that would give them a common ground. Douglas had taken a seat on one of the desktops, arms folded in his lap.

Next to him sat Gia. She was fifteen as well. She had her thick black hair wound in tight knots all over her head; her skin was a pretty bronze-mocha color that shimmered in the low morning light streaming through the classroom window. Her eyes were a light green, striking against her dark skin. She had a high forehead and cheekbones, slim, tiny nose, her lips were full and deeply rouged, and she was slender, but stocky, with well-defined muscles evident in her bare arms. Weaver had mentioned that she was like a wild cat personality-wise and Jimmy instantly thought of a puma when he saw her; dangerous, quick-tempered, she appeared a bit long in the tooth and gave the impression that she might pounce at any moment. Jimmy probably wouldn't be getting anywhere near her any time soon, she made him nervous with her unpredictable shifting gaze.

Hovering in the back was little Kelsey, youngest of the group at fourteen years old. She had buck-teeth and untamed strawberry blonde hair, the type that frizzed to gigantic proportions in the humid summer and lay damp in the winter. Her eyes were small, brown, and flighty; they reminded Jimmy of a rabbit's, always darting about at every tiny movement. She was the second tallest of the four, coming up to just about Douglas's shoulder, but in the way she held herself, she seemed the smallest person in the room. She seems sweet at first, Weaver had mentioned, but she's got a bite to her. Jimmy wasn't sure what the captain had meant but he made a mental note to remain wary of the girl, it was always the quiet ones, after all.

And then there was Roman. He was sixteen, a few inches taller than Jimmy, compact, bulked with lean muscle. He had a square jaw and broad nose. His eyes were a copper-hazel color; they glinted in the sun like a hawk. His expression was hard-lined, an intense grimace fixed firm and unwavering on Jimmy and Jimmy felt a flutter in his chest. He had to swallow down hard the stir of foreign, unfamiliar emotions within him. He'd thought only Ben could pull off a burning gaze like that, and he found himself instantly disliking this older boy. Weaver had said, 'Roman is the one you need to win over, gain his trust and the others will follow his lead', but Jimmy wasn't certain he could manage speaking to the boy, let alone stand in the same room as him.

But Ben was out there in the early morning risking his life for the 2nd Mass – hell, for all of humanity, Jimmy reminded himself, and somehow that was all he needed to muster his courage, clear his throat and step forward.

"I'm Jimmy," he announced. The four teenagers glared at him, blank-faced and clearly unimpressed. He fidgeted with his sleeves, nibbled his inner cheek and more quietly than he would have liked, explained, "I'm supposed to train you guys to be fighters."

There was a long, drawn out silence, stretched over the span of time it would take to run Jimmy over with a bulldozer, back it up, and run him over again. He drew his breath in and let it out slow.

"You're a kid," Douglas finally spoke up, pointing out the obvious. Jimmy flinched at that then perked a brow.

"So are you," he returned sharply.

"Yeah, but…" Douglas scoffed, "I don't sound like Mickey Mouse."

Jimmy opened his mouth, no sound came out, so he clamped it back shut hard. He blinked once, and shook his head, flustered. He did not sound like Mickey Mouse. At least, he was fairly certain he didn't. Sure, Douglas had a much deeper voice than him, but it wasn't deep enough that he should be so proud of it, and Jimmy still had some growing left to do, his voice would get deeper, and god dammit, why was he arguing about this with himself?

"How old are you?" Gia queried in a sumptuous voice, slipping off the desk and sauntering towards Jimmy. Subconsciously, he took several steps away from the advancing girl, watching her warily, while darting uncertain glances to her friends.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Jimmy answered, putting a desk between himself and Gia, leering at her from across it. Her lip curled up in a half-snarled smirk.

"That means you're younger than us, doesn't it?" she surmised.

"Age doesn't mean a thing," Jimmy bristled, "Some of the best fighters in the 2nd Mass weren't much older than fifteen when we started out."

"There's no way you're fifteen," Douglas commented.

Jimmy smoldered, a heat slowly building in his veins. He narrowed his eyes on the older boy and bit out, "So? What's your point?"

"Oh isn't he cute. Got a little bit of an attitude," Gia teased.

"Fuck you," Jimmy spat out and Gia reeled back from his words, her expression flipping instantly into a fierce glower. He took a step away from the desk between them, dropping his chin down and peering up at her through loose strands of shaggy brown, heart pounding vicious in his chest, and hands in loose fists at his sides. His mother had always told him to never hit a girl, but Maggie once advised, 'hey, if the bitch strikes first…'

"Oh, you did not just say that to me, little boy," Gia hissed.

"She doesn't like foul language," Douglas cheerfully informed Jimmy, bouncing on the balls of his feet and looking positively giddy at the sudden prospect of violence breaking out before him.

"You're Jimmy Boland, right?"

Every one froze at the sound of that low, throaty voice; all eyes were instantly on Roman. He was lounging casually back in his seat, the perfect picture of boredom. His eyes swept lazily over Jimmy, scathing and searing everywhere they roamed. Jimmy struggled to breath, he knew he was trembling and could only hope it wasn't too visible, but from the careless smirk on that older boy's lip, he knew it was.

"Rumor has it you blew yourself up," Roman said.

There was a question in that statement, but although Jimmy could easily guess what it was, he wasn't all too clear on the motive behind asking it or what exactly Roman hoped to assess from Jimmy's answer. Gia and Douglas glanced to one another, and then turned their scrutinizing stares back on Jimmy. He squirmed involuntarily from all the attention, color warming his cheeks.

Jimmy had never given anyone a full account of what had occurred in that warehouse, mostly because he didn't personally want to relive that day or the blurry ones that followed, but partially because it would have cast troublesome accusations onto a fellow fighter who in many ways made the best decision – though debatably not the right one – that he could have in that situation.

However, apparently Jimmy had left enough clues behind for people in the 2nd Mass to speculate something close to the truth; the detonator was found under a pile of rubble in the warehouse basement floor, there weren't many logical reasons why that would be.

"Is it true?" Kelsey piped up suddenly, her voice barely louder than a whisper. She stood beside Roman, chewing her thumbnail to its bed, her beady eyes boring in Jimmy, interested, appraising. Jimmy shrugged, shuffling back a step or two and lowering his eyes.

"What do _you_ think?" he muttered.

Douglas coughed, to unsettle the phlegm in his throat, and Gia paced back and forth around the desk where Jimmy had left her. Kelsey sighed.

"Not possible," Roman decided.

"Then I guess that's the truth," Jimmy replied flatly.

Roman snorted, soft and without noise, and tilted his chin to the side, glaring sidelong out the classroom window. Jimmy dropped his eyes to the ground and shoved his hands into his pockets, having nothing else to really do with them.

"I told you guys it didn't happen," Gia exclaimed, "People are so stupid. There's no way a scrawny runt like him gets caught in an explosion like that and walks away."

"It could've happened," Douglas argued, "The explosion wasn't complete, and they said the warehouse didn't collapse entirely. If he were standing in the right place-"

"Weaver must think we're all stupid," Roman silently lamented and the squabbling teens fell silent again, looking to their friend curiously. Jimmy peered up also, a brow quirked. "We're supposed to learn how to be fighters from you? Some snot-nosed brat? And what does he expect? That we should hero worship you because of some lame-ass fairytales floating around camp about you saving the 2nd Mass a few weeks back? Maybe you weren't even in that building, hell; maybe you weren't even the one to push that button. Maybe you got lost, pissing out back, while the real fighters were down on the battlefield, and Weaver just came up with that story about you bringing down that building at the right time so that we would all go back looking for you because, God forbid, he lose his little lapdog."

Jimmy raised his eyes to meet with the older boy's, a chilly hailstorm raging in their blue depths. They stood there, deadlocked a moment, until Jimmy broke away first, shaking his head and muttering, "Whatever."

It wasn't worth it to argue. Part of Jimmy figured that maybe it was better they thought that of him. He didn't want that moment to go down in history as his crowning achievement anyway, not when he'd rather it was scored from memory. The only real hero was Ben, and everyone always forgot it.

"I'm not here to prove myself," Jimmy grumbled, "I'm just here to train you."

"What if we don't want you to train us?" Roman challenged and he might as well have just kicked Jimmy's legs out from under him, not that he had anything to stand on walking in that room from the get-go anyhow.

"You guys want to be fighters, well, I can teach you everything you need to know to do it," Jimmy stated plainly.

"So can a lot of others around camp," Roman pointed out.

"True. But no one else will do it," Jimmy returned, fixing Roman with a meaningful glare, and if the words came as a surprise, or hurt the older boy in the least, he showed no signs of it, "Look, no one is asking you to like me. All that's being asked is we put up with each other for a short period of time, maybe a week tops, I'll show you the basics, then we'll go our separate ways and you'll never have to see me again."

The four were silent. Douglas, Gia, Kelsey, they all had their eyes on Roman, awaiting his next move. Roman gazed out the window, setting and unsetting his jaw. Jimmy fidgeted with the edges of his sleeves, chewing his inner cheek until the tangy taste of blood spilled onto his tongue, waiting for a response he was starting to suspect would never come.

"Tell me something, brat," Roman suddenly said in a quiet tone, "Why did Weaver choose you?"

"What?" Jimmy stammered, furrowing his brow.

Maybe it wasn't an odd thing to wonder, but Jimmy thought he'd made it fairly clear that he was the only one that would train the four teenagers in the room and they had to know why no one else wanted the job. Did Roman really want him to say it aloud?

"Rumor also has it you hang around that razorback a lot."

Jimmy's blood ran cold.

"Ben," he corrected, trying to keep the angry shake from his words, his hands balling instinctively into fists at the off-handed slur, even as his brow furrowed in confusion at it. Couldn't these four also be called that same terrible word?

The other three teenagers had their eyes on Jimmy again; there was a strange darkness tainting their features. Roman, however, seemed suddenly disinterested in the younger boy altogether. He stood slowly, lazily, from his seat, and strolled towards the classroom exit, a faint smile on his lips. His friends shuffled after, falling in line behind him.

"Right," Roman murmured, as he breezed past Jimmy and swept the door open, "Benjamin Mason: the razorback."

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A/N: And there you have the four unharnessed kids that Jimmy must train. Feel free to bash on them I suppose. Someone asked if Rick was going to be one of the kids Jimmy trained and as you can see, the answer is no, but he will be in this story. I'm not sure how prevalent his presence will be, because I'm still debating on the role he'll play, but I'm leaning very heavily towards him having a semi-big role. Because I liked Rick, he was interesting, and he was one of the few characters that got to be explored more than other that were killed off in an untimely fashion...ahem.

Right, let me know what you guys think. Review, people, review!

And to the reviewers: FacePalmer123, lol, yes, you are young, but youth is no excuse! And I'm okay with being hated...just don't take my cookies away and we're all good. Game of Thrones, huh? Never read it, but I understand it's very good. ScarlettLynne, yeah, older siblings seem to just be there to grate the younger's nerves, right? Actually, being an elder sibling, I kind of understand Hal's perspective...but being a younger sibling too (and thus, a middle child like Ben) I can of understand Ben's side too. About Pope, no, he doesn't strike as a person to fall into prejudices, but he does strike me as a realist and a self-preservationist. Ben was obviously changed by the harness, and no one is quite sure to what extent, so it would make sense to me that he wouldn't trust Ben. He tried to drive Tom from camp because Tom was the aliens' hostage for a short time, and Tom had no obvious changes made to him. Good luck on your homework! Haley, I'm glad you felt bad for Hal too, even tho he's a jerk, there's not many with sympathy for him. IcicleLilly, oh, I'm happy to hear you think Hal's character is accurately portrayed. Yeah...Jimmy doesn't find out about the lying in a pleasant way either. WhisperMaw, missed you last chapter, still distracted by the baseball? Well, I'm glad you liked that passage so much, you're a bit of an angst lover, huh? Which is cool, because I got some very angsty scenes coming up in this story that I'm hoping you'll dig. Heracratzarism, yeah...Hal and Ben do that a lot in this story. I almost think that's all they want to do...no worries though people, there will be some nice, touching brotherly-love (not in the incest way) moments in this story too. And there will be moments with Matt also, of course.

Right. I have to get breakfast then go to class. Need...coffee...desperately!


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: I'm worried I may have started biweekly updates early...I haven't worked on this story in almost two weeks...damn school work.

Right, thank you to the reviewers for your continued support. You guys are too awesome.

And a thank you to Greg for beta-ing this chapter.

Now Read.

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VIII.

Cafeteria food was always stereotypically disgusting, but that day was particularly revolting, meatloaf surprise with creamed corn and collard greens. Ben wished his mother hadn't been distracted by his younger brother that morning; Matt hadn't wanted to get out of bed and dragged his feet getting ready, making it impossible for her to break away and prep lunches that day. Instead, she'd put together a hasty peanut butter and jelly on wheat for Matt, no time to so much as trim the crust, and pressed ten dollar bills in Ben and Hal's palms telling them they would have to suffer through school prepared gruel that day.

In the lunch room, Ben sat at a table near the back; his friends surrounded him on all sides. Hatchet and Lindsey were flipping through the recent edition of their new favorite comic book, _The Hair-Raising Adventures of Razorback Boy._ The art-style was decent; the story interesting, it was a strange mix of sci-fi, action, and horror, but Ben struggled to get into it, something about it just did not appeal.

Marty and Crumb discussed the lecture from Mr. Heller's English class that day, they were in the middle of reading _Fahrenheit 451_, and the two teens were contrasting the book to other dystopian novels, particularly _A Handmaid's Tale_ and _1984_. Crumb believed that a mix of Bradbury and Orwell's vision of the future were the most obvious and logical course of history, considering the progressive dumbing down of future generations being perpetrated by the government, most notably through media outlets. However, predictably, Marty didn't think Atwood should be dismissed given the deconstruction of the modern female into little more than a sex symbol and homemaker that seemed to persist through the ages despite intermittent periods of feminist movements.

Arnie posed to the two teens the very real possibility that the future would not be dystopian at all, and even went so far as to suggest apocalypse, and instantly the discussion turned to contagious outbreak, nuclear warfare, and, ultimately, zombies, any of which, Crumb pointed out, could conceivably be a catalyst for a dystopian society, enter _V for Vendetta_, and thus the great debate continued.

"What about aliens?" Ben wondered aloud, poking at his meatloaf surprise, only to receive blank looks from all the teenagers that surrounded him.

"The alien invasion theory is inherently flawed, Ben, you know that," Hatchet spoke up to argue, "Given the amount of scientific and economic resource that would need to be poured into a long-term space flight program and the search for other inhabited planets…other forms of life – despite the high probability of there being none – there is no fathomable reason why aliens would come with the intention of conquer. It's ridiculous."

"Then what would they come for?" Ben returned, "If an alien species had the capability of long-term space flight and the resources necessary to seek out other inhabited planets, then it just goes to reason that they would be far more technologically advanced than us. We would have nothing to offer them but conquer!"

"Uh…scientific discovery," Arnie shot back, "Think about it. Any alien spacecraft that came to our planet would be the reflection of a highly developed space-flight program – _science_, Ben – and its team would consist of _scientists_, not soldiers. It would be a research team, not an armada."

"Well…no…but your argument is based on the assumption that the entire alien race, that its society, is singularly-minded," Ben protested, "And not split into governmental factions similar to our own, or possibly not even consistent of a single government much like ourselves-"

"The amount of resources it would take for a long-term space flight program would require the unity of a planet" Crumb interjected.

"Which only further supports the hypothesis that there would be multiple factions within this hypothetical invasive alien species' government," Ben bit out, "The greater the number of individuals brought together, the greater the number of dissenting viewpoints. NASA was founded on principles of science but most of its research is utilized solely for military purposes and there is no reason to discredit the theory that this alien race would not be just as bureaucratically divided as our own species. One faction of the aliens may be interested purely in scientific discovery, but another may be just as interested in slavery, possibly total annihilation so as to commandeer our planet's resources. Of course, this is completely forgetting the further valid hypothesis that this race is not in and of itself based on a totalitarian regime and therefore culturally biased positively towards enslavement of other intellectual beings!"

"That is absolutely ridiculous," Hatchet sputtered.

"That doesn't even make sense," Arnie cried.

"You're a close-minded idiot," Crumb muttered.

"Give me one reason why," Ben challenged.

"Uh…because, as the boys have all aptly pointed out, there is no way an alien race is going to spend _conceivably_ centuries on research and travel hundreds of thousands of light-years to another planet in a galaxy far, far away just to wipe out what is probably the only other intelligent life form in the entire universe," Lindsey spat out.

"Fine, then let's go back to your original argument, that their purpose for traveling here would be scientific discovery. To study us. How is that not a form of conquer?" Ben retorted.

"How _is_ that a form of conquer?" Arnie said in turn.

"How _is_ it _not_?" Ben cried, incredulous, rising to his feet as he spoke, his words becoming more frantic, more vehement with each and every one that spewed from his mouth, "How is it not a form of conquer when they put things inside of you, prodding and poking around? How is it not a form of conquer when they cut you open just to see what makes you tick? How is it not a form of conquer when they change how you think, how you feel, dump chemicals in your brain to make you forget everything and everyone you've ever loved or cared about? How is it not a form of conquer when they alter you so completely, so totally, that you can't even be considered human anymore!"

He slammed his fists across the table to emphasize his last words but his friends didn't react, staring up at him impassively. He flinched at a gentle touch to his arm and turned round, met the hazy eyes of that mysterious blonde girl as she took his hand in her own and smiled up at him, demure.

"Why don't you tell us, Ben?" she teased, "After all, aren't you the one that's already been conquered?"

…

Ben stumbled hard back into reality, a strong hand roughly shaking his shoulder. He blinked away the thoughts and images swirling through his mind's eye and refocused on his surroundings. He was squatted on the roof of a building several blocks from the alien structure, the 2nd Mass's new target. He had his rifle cradled in his arms.

Dai was perched on the highest point of the roof, the top of the cement cube that formed a 'hut' over the access door. He was using binoculars to get a better look at the target. Pope wandered aimlessly around the edges of the roof, spitting a large swath of saliva to the ground below. Hal was the one holding Ben's shoulder, trying to get his attention.

"What?" Ben demanded in a low hiss.

"Where'd you go just now?" Hal replied, loosening his grip but leaving his hand resting where it was, "I've been calling your name for the past minute."

"You ever think that maybe I was ignoring you," Ben muttered grumpily, brushing his brother away and glaring out at the distant structure. Skitters crawled everywhere along the roads leading to that ominous creation, and somewhere nearby a mech cried into the wind.

"Hey, Chinaman, we gonna be here much longer?" Pope called to Dai.

Dai, ever the picture of unending stoicism, didn't respond.

Pope whistled, high-pitched and shouted, "Hey, I'm talking to you, Tanto!"

Hal and Ben glanced back at the mouthy older man a moment, their expressions reproving, then Hal set his hard stare on Ben and the younger brother shifted uncomfortably, turning back to the open air and the street below them. A small wind ruffled their hair and sent a shiver trembling down their spines.

"Now isn't the time to be acting immature, Ben," Hal quietly reprimanded.

"Then stop acting immature," Ben retorted calmly.

"Ben…"

"Do you really want to get into it right now?" Ben growled, darting a pointed look to Pope and Dai, and hissing, "Because you're the one who told me to watch what I said, and to keep my head down. You want to know why I don't listen to you, Hal? Because you don't listen to yourself."

"I'm older," Hal seethed, "And I have more experience-"

"So that means you get to make all the rules, and then break them?" Ben challenged. He shook his head, grit his teeth, muttered, "Why did you even bother coming back for me?"

"What does that mean?" Hal gaped, eyes narrowed and brow cascading with severe wrinkles.

"Nothing," Ben grunted, rising to his feet when Dai slipped off his perch and started towards the brothers. Hal stood as well, and they turned to face their approaching senior.

"Feel like taking a run?" Dai asked Ben.

Hal perked a brow and demanded, "Run where?"

"We need a better look at the supports on that structure," Dai answered, slipping the camera from around his neck and holding it out for Ben to take, "There's a light guard on the eastern side of the block. I see a deli down there; looks to have a good view of what we need. Your brother can slip in-"

"By himself?" Hal interjected, folding his arms over his chest and anxiously readjusting his stance, clearly irritated by Dai's suggestion.

"It's the best way," Dai reasoned, "He can get down there unnoticed, move faster than any one of us."

"I don't think so," Hal replied, "I'll go with him, provide backup."

"Chill out, Hal," Ben snapped, "This is what I'm here for. What's my best route, Dai?"

"No, Ben," Hal snarled, "You do what I say, remember? And I'm saying there's no way in hell you're heading out into Skitter territory without any backup. Dai, he's my little brother, either you let me go with him or-"

"You're not in charge of me, Hal, I don't need you to take care of me, and you're just going to slow me down anyway," Ben cried.

"This is touching and all, but could you boys hurry up and decide which one of you brats is going out there, because as fun as this little shindig has been, I would like to wrap it up and get back to camp," Pope interrupted, stating mock-joyfully, "I'm making enchiladas for dinner tonight. How the fuck I'm supposed to make enchiladas without tortillas and guac, I don't know, but I'll never figure it out if you don't let junior off your teats for ten minutes, big bro."

"I'm sorry, Hal," Dai reasoned, "But this is the best way. He can move faster and quieter by himself. Anyone goes with him and it just increases his chances of getting caught."

Hal opened his mouth to say something more, but he couldn't seem to find a proper protest, so he slammed it shut, folded his arms over his chest, and glared off into the distance. Ben tried to keep the gloat out of his features as he looked expectantly to Dai and awaited the rest of his instructions.

Dai gave detailed directions to the deli and Ben left the three men, taking the roof access to the building stairwell and jogging easily to the ground level. Out on the street, he unsheathed the knife at his thigh and held it in front of him, at the ready – he'd left his rifle with the other, any gunfire in the area would have every Skitter on him in a hot flash. Swift, steady, he strode forward, maneuvering around debris from the crumbled remains of the ghost city around him. He had all senses on high alert, and despite the light chill in the early winter air, a thin film of sweat coated his worried brow.

Head north, take the second left, straight on to the green building, make a right, five buildings down, cut right, and keep moving until you see the neon 'deli' sign.

Ben almost wished he could feel the way a normal teenage boy should feel in that situation. His heart was meant to race, his hands tremble, his breath hitch high in his throat. Instead, his nerves were steel reinforced with titanium, and coated twice in Kevlar. He couldn't even remember what it was to be afraid in a situation like that, and he supposed in a way, that was the more frightening thing.

Ben peek cautiously behind the second left corner, taking a fraction of the time it would take any other fighter to assess that the road was clear and move on. He jogged several yards, ducked behind an overturned Volkswagen crushed on the rear half, checked his bearings, and jogged several tens more yards, darting behind part of the roof of a nearby building when he heard the shuffle of Skitter legs hurrying by.

Ben waited, listened, and flexed his fingers around the hilt of the knife blade. He knew the others were on the roof with rifles watching him, but shooting any Skitters that attacked Ben would alert the enemy to their location, and they all would perish. He hoped someone was smart enough to confiscate Hal's gun.

Briefly, at seeming random, Ben wondered about Matt, if the youngest Mason brother was eating lunch or out playing with other 2nd Mass children. He hoped Matt was playing; the other children gave him such a hard time most days because his older brother was a 'half-Skitter freak'.

The Skitters' steps faded down the road and Ben flinched, let a few seconds tick by before he pressed on. His heart gave a small patter in his chest as he found the green building – it was a disgusting pea-soup color – and he darted right, cutting through the alley way and counting the red-brick backsides of buildings as he passed them.

Jimmy flitted unbidden to mind, as if he ever really left, and Ben faltered a moment, leaning his shoulder against a wall opening, listening to the thunderous steps of mech feet. He frowned, waited for the behemoth to pass before pushing forward. There hadn't been a chance to say 'good-bye' to Jimmy before leaving that morning, though he'd spotted the other boy across camp.

Smoking.

Ben cringed, and turned right after the fifth building, sprinting up the street in search of a deli sign.

Ben supposed of the many evils Jimmy could indulge in, smoking was probably not the worst. Not to mention, cigarettes were so hard to come by in the post-apocalyptic world, Jimmy rarely partook, but when he did, it wreaked havoc on Ben's hyper-active senses.

Ben slammed to a halt, drawing his breath in slow and letting it out easy. He lifted the knife and spun round in time to thrust out the blade just as a Skitter pinned him to the ground. His strike found the soft palate of the alien creature at the back of its throat and it died almost instantly on top of Ben, its foul smelling innards spilling out all over him.

When Ben was able to knock the corpse off, he found he was sitting on the ground underneath the deli sign. He wrinkled his nose at the mess staining his clothes and slick on his body, pushing the dead Skitter away and rising hesitantly to his feet, ears and eyes seeking out any other Skitters in the area poised to strike.

No new attack came and Ben headed towards the deli, trying the door first and finding it locked. He cursed all the looters in the world for not hitting this one particular building, then wandered to the window and used the butt of his knife hilt to splinter the glass. He pushed the rest of the pane inward with his boot and crawled into the opening he'd made.

Aside from a black splatter of blood across the black and white tiled floor, and rotting foods behind the glass counter, the deli store looked relatively untouched by the war. Ben covered his mouth and choked back his gag reflex. His eyes stung from the fumes. Big, black flies flitted noisily through the air, and he swatted a few away from his face, stepping through the room towards the opposite side of the store where he'd entered, where Dai had promised he could get a better view of the alien structure.

Ben found the original source of the blood stain underneath a toppled shelf, a half-decomposed body, its entrails melting on the floor, its bulging flesh wriggling from maggots and other insects moving through its cavities, feasting on the remains. He swallowed back bile and stepped carefully around the mess.

A loud ringing screeched out and Ben nearly dropped his knife, slamming his hands over his ears and collapsing to his knees. His eyes screwed shut and mouth formed a silent scream of agony. He couldn't shut the noise out, try as he might, because it seemed the ringing wasn't coming from some unknown source in the area, it was coming from within him. He could feel more than see the blue light that lit along his spine, licking white hot up his back side.

Images flipped through Ben's mind. Vivid depictions of a very alien world that overlapped the earthen remnants left behind on the landscape: a tree without name crawled up from the ground pushing away a Volvo, a creature unrecognizable gnawed on a fire hydrant overgrown with thick, purple globule vines.

The ringing stopped and the deli twitched back into focus. Ben gasped for breath, trembling, a bead of sweat trickled down his cheek. He shook the weird tingling away, lifted himself stiffly and staggered towards the deli wall, collapsing forward against it and sliding down to the ground, crawling to the window and propping himself up to gaze out along the street.

"Shit," Ben whispered, wetting his chapped lips errantly, getting a taste of blood and something he didn't want to identify, and spit it vapidly from his mouth several inches away. He wiped his knife off on his already mussed trousers and sheathed it, then dried his palms on his trouser legs.

The alien structure was very much in clear view but it wasn't what Ben had expected it to be. It wrapped around a man-made building, bits of it flowing out and entwining with steel-support beams and wooden T-Frames, bursting through dry-wall, mortar, concrete.

Ben lifted the camera to snap a few shots, furrowing his brow as he watched the alien forces marching around the structure; some were even crawling over it.

Another ringing erupted, higher-pitched but more mild, and Ben clutched his head again, dropping the camera, it knocked hard into his chest, catching at the band wrapped round his neck with a skin chaffing jerk. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the alien creation swirl and shift, mutating as though in tune to the blood-curdling cry tormenting Ben, and when the noise died down, the structure stopped moving as well.

Ben scrambled backwards, rushing through the deli once more and hastily tumbling to the broken window he'd entered the deli through. It seemed he hadn't forgotten what it was to be afraid after all.

Rejoining the other three fighters didn't take long and Hal was on Ben as soon as he ascended to the top of the building and burst through the roof access.

"What happened? What the hell took so long? What are you…covered in?" Hal rattled off and Ben stumbled back from his older brother, pushing him vehemently away.

"I'm fine. I killed a Skitter," he grumbled explanation, "No big deal. It was dead before it even hit the ground. Here are the pictures," he handed the camera over to Dai and stalked away from the men, calling over his shoulder, "Can we get the hell out of here now?"

* * *

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A/N: I went to see the Perks of Being a Wallflower yesterday, it was an alright movie. The character Patrick was awesome, and all of the actors in the movie did a great job. The story itself felt very rushed, but at the same time, I spent most of the movie strumming my fingers and desperately wishing it would _end_...I think I'm just jaded about movies, I work with some cynical bastards that all think they're the foremost authority on movie critiquing. If you ever wonder where I get it from...

Anyhow, real quick, some of you might be wondering if and how much of Ben and/or Jimmy's past(s) will be revealed in this story, and the answer is: yes, and a maybe quite a bit. I want to focus more on Ben's past in this story, because it has a lot to do with how his future role in humanity will unravel, and then I want to touch a bit on Dorchester with Jimmy because that will affect his character's outcome the most. I will not be doing flashbacks in this story though, not like in First Patrol. I'm sorry to disappoint...but I'm hoping how things manifest will be just as entertaining. I always say, read a story to its end. You can't adequately judge anything in pieces, you have to see it in its whole entirety to get the clear picture.

Right, moving on.

Reviewers: Greg, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to misrepresent you! I didn't much like the chapter myself though...JMDlvr1, that would be funny if they did though; just hand them over to the Skitters..."here, we don't want them...". Cookie97, Hal is a meanie, I know. And you got your review for chapter 7 in before I updated, yay! Yeah, those four...'Razorback Crew' (thank you for that, IcicleLilly :D) have a lot of kinks to work out. Yeah, it's always a good thing when Jimmy defends Ben. An interesting thought on the unharnessed kids' motives though...Facepalmer123, it just means I'm okay with being hated...I get hated a lot, I'm used to it. You'll just have to read to find out if Ben and Jimmy survive. IcicleLilly, well, I'm still always glad to hear that you think my portrayals are accurate...and I'm especially pleased that you like Rome and Doug, jerks are so hard to resist, I know. I hope you're not too disappointed that there won't be First Patrol style flashbacks, but I promise, I'll try to make things as entertaining. Haley, that's a long review from you! Interesting insight on Jimmy, you know, I haven't really thought about if he wants his relationship with Ben public. I know Ben hates having to hide it, but Jimmy is a tough read on it, and that may be more telling of his feelings on the subject then anything...though I will say this, I do know how Jimmy handles it later when he's given the choice...

Okay, you guys, I'll see you all Thursday!


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: I know some of the readers live on the US east coast, and hope that all of them and their loved ones are safe and have not been terribly effected by the recent hurricane. I also hope that all of you have had an awesome Halloween.

Thank you to the reviewers, you guys kick ass.

Now, go read.

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IX.

There weren't many things to do around camp with so many of the other fighters busy with assignment related to the 2nd Mass's latest ambitious mission. Not when Jimmy's own assignment decided early in that it didn't want to cooperate with him. So Jimmy sought out other things to do, like reorganize the ammunitions truck. He put all the boxes of munitions in order of caliber size first, but that only took an hour and a half, so again he rearranged everything according to which gun type they were useable in, then switched to which were most used, then most abundant, then most damaging to Skitters, and then finally settled on arrangement based on useable gun type and within that caliber size and within that most abundant.

Three hours later, Jimmy felt satisfied and was, once again, without task. He wandered around camp, it was about lunchtime and most of the 2nd Mass were in the mess area, eating lentil soup and a stale assortment of crackers. Jimmy knew that he should probably eat, but he paused and lay a hand over his stomach thoughtfully, considering whether his digestive system was in the mood to hold down anything he put into it. Most of the people remaining in the world that he cared about were out on dangerous missions and wouldn't be back for several more hours, who was he kidding trying to decide if he could eat, hell, he could puke on that empty stomach, attempting to put anything in it was just an obvious recipe for disaster.

That was about when Jimmy found Matt. With both of his older brothers out on mission, Matt was relegated to Dr. Glass's care. Of course, Dr. Glass was busy treating patients and Matt was a little boy that didn't want to spend his entire afternoon in a stuffy van listening to 'okay…now breath deep and…cough', it didn't matter how kind Dr. Glass could be. Nothing better to do, Jimmy volunteered to take the boy for a few hours.

Jimmy sort of hoped that Matt would want to do something semi-fun, like play soccer or catch. One of the benefits of being camped out at a community center, there was plenty of equipment lying around to keep the small children entertained and, in many ways, Jimmy was still a small child himself – if, that is, being a surly, bitter, equivalent of an eighty-year-old trapped in a small child's body counted for anything.

Unfortunately, Matt didn't feel up for any active sports, suggesting chess instead. Together they sat in the main lobby of the community center, several other kids and older teenagers sitting around them playing various different board games. Matt set up the board, and it took him several tens of minutes to explain the rules, mostly because Jimmy kept zoning out and having to ask for things to be repeated. Seriously, why did it have to be chess?

Their first game was quick. Jimmy wasn't entirely sure why he'd lost, he'd only had five turns, and Matt spent nearly three times longer than the game actually lasted trying to explain the loss to Jimmy, before finally deciding, "Let's just play again," and he reset the board.

The second game took a little longer, because Jimmy would only move the short, knobby pieces that held the front line until he couldn't move them anymore, was forced to branch out with other pieces and eventually, Matt announced victory. Jimmy slumped, debating whether he should ask how exactly his defeat had happened this time. Matt explained anyway, and Jimmy simply nodded as though he understood.

"Don't you ever play chess with Ben?" Matt demanded, exasperated, and Jimmy winced. He had kind of hoped he could get through baby-sitting the youngest Mason without mentioning the elder brother, but reflecting back, it was probably a foolhardy hope from the get-go.

"No. Never," Jimmy responded quietly and Matt perked a brow.

"Really? Ben and his friends always played chess before," he said, leaning over the board with his chin in his palm, and studying the pieces in front of him. He made his first move then looked up at Jimmy expectantly.

Jimmy sighed, lazily pushed one of the knobby pieces forward a couple squares, "I guess I'm not like Ben's other friends."

"No, you're not. Not at all," Matt replied, moving another piece and leaning back to peer up at Jimmy curiously, "You talk less. And you use smaller words. _Much_ smaller words."

Jimmy blinked. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to be flattered or insulted. He knew Matt was just making a blunt observation, it was a quirky, oft times annoying, trait that he shared with Ben.

"Ben never kissed his other friends either," Matt pointed out, looking thoughtfully back down at the board and Jimmy flustered, ducking his face to hide the sudden color.

Sometimes Jimmy forgot that Matt had seen him and Ben together in the storage closet a few weeks ago, and while Matt had done a good job thus far of not saying anything about the kiss he saw there to anyone in the 2nd Mass not-in-the-loop, typical of any younger sibling, he still liked to throw it into whatever conversation he could with the two older boys.

"Never…" Jimmy quietly repeated, running his finger along the edge of the chess board, then glancing anxious up at Matt he meekly asked, "What were his other friends like?"

It was sort of a silly question though. Jimmy could take a pretty accurate guess as to what Ben's pre-alien invasion friends were like; it wasn't exactly a secret the kind of person Ben was before. At times, in their conversations together, Jimmy could still see that person, in the things Ben said, the references or jokes he made. He'd been something of a dork, the type that played chess competitively and read for fun, did extra-credit assignments because he was finished with all of his homework, stayed up late to watch documentaries on the science channel. It stood to reason that his former friends were the same type.

"Why do you want to know?" Matt returned. He peered intently at Jimmy, an expression not unlike his father's, distinguished and studious. All the Mason boys wore the look sometimes and something about that fact ached inside of Jimmy, as he dropped his gaze back to the chess board, thinking about his own father and what expressions he wore that were like those of that long-dead man.

"I was just asking," Jimmy murmured, touching one of the chess pieces as though to move it, then pulling back and slumping forward on his knees.

Closing his eyes, Jimmy could almost picture Ben's friends from before. He'd known kids like them at his own school, they used to scoff at Jimmy and his own friends for being slackers, the types of losers that would be lucky to graduate high-school, let alone get into a decent college. As if that were what defined a man from a child, their higher education options. And, of course, Jimmy and his friends would ignore those kids, the way they had ignored everyone. Back then they hadn't cared where they would end up, so long as it was anywhere but where they were presently at.

One of the first things Ben had ever said to Jimmy on their first patrol together was that he thought they could've been friends if they had known one another before the war, but Jimmy wasn't so sure. He felt they wouldn't have even realized the other existed, that if they had, they would've hated each other for their differences, and something about that hurt.

"I didn't think they were very cool," Matt admitted with a shrug, "I like you a lot better. His old friends never talked to me, or played with me, or anything. They usually just ignored me."

Jimmy smiled vaguely at the chess board, letting the younger Mason's praise swell through him, warm and soft.

"Ben didn't have as many friends as Hal," Matt continued and Jimmy peeked curiously up at him once, before continuing his staring contest with the chess board, "Or me. Hal would make fun of him for it, but mom always told him that it didn't mean anything, quality over quantity. She liked to say that a lot, I don't really know what it means, but it never made Ben feel better. He'd just get really mad. He'd go lock himself in his room and mom would get upset and Hal would make fun of him and dad would tell Hal to knock it off."

"I didn't have a lot of friends either. Just a few really good ones," Jimmy murmured, elucidating, "Sometimes you can be surrounded by people and feel like the loneliest person in the room, you know? And sometimes you can be with one person and never need anyone else. I think that's what your mom meant. Does that make sense?"

"Not really," Matt said earnestly and Jimmy smiled softly down at him, "But you know…even when Ben's friends were over, he never seemed very happy. His friends were all kind of mean too. Like…they didn't even seem like friends sometimes, they were always making fun of each other and arguing and everything."

"No, that's just how friends are at that age," Jimmy chuckled, "My friends and I used to…" He trailed off, frowned at the chessboard. He never talked about his friends from before, not with anyone. He tried not to think about them. They were from a different life, friends to a different person, a foul-mouthed pothead that went by James.

Yet, it seemed so natural to just start opening up to Matt. Jimmy ran a hand over his face and sighed, he was starting to let his carefully constructed guard down, and he was fairly certain Ben was to blame.

"Used to what?" Matt prodded.

"Nothing. Just…picked on each other a lot," Jimmy concluded, grimacing, then he frowned and confessed, "Back then, I didn't notice it I guess, but sometimes, a lot of the time, I suppose, I felt lonely when I was with them too, just like Ben with his friends."

"Do you feel lonely with Ben?" Matt wondered.

Jimmy smirked and shook his head, sheepishly answering, "No. Never."

"That's really weird," Matt muttered, scrunching his nose, and Jimmy shrugged.

"Maybe you'll understand one day," he said, thinking it seemed the appropriate thing to say, even though he didn't quite understand it himself. He slid one of his long, skinny chess pieces across the board.

"You can't move that there," Matt chastised.

Jimmy frowned, furrowing his brow heavily, and examining the piece. He tried to remember the instructions Matt had given him and what rule he had broken, but he kept drawing a blank.

"Why not?" he demanded.

"It's a bishop. They only move diagonally," Matt explained, staring up condescendingly at the older boy.

"But I thought…this one moved diagonally," Jimmy complained, tapping the top of a squatter piece, with a jagged top. He only had one of them; which didn't make any sense, he had multiples of all the other pieces, except the king of course, but that's because it was the piece he was guarding, like the flag in Capture the Flag. At least, that's how Matt had explained it, Jimmy wasn't entirely sure he bought the analogy.

Matt rolled his eyes exaggeratedly and said matter-of-fact, "That's your queen. She can move _both_ diagonally and straight." He stopped just short of calling Jimmy an idiot, which in all fairness, it would be his fifth time explaining everything, but Jimmy bristled all the same.

"Why did you want to play this stupid game anyway?" Jimmy asked, folding his arms over his stomach and glaring at the chess board as Matt put his 'bishop' back where it had been originally.

"I have to practice," Matt answered. Jimmy perked a brow.

"Practice? For what?"

"For when I play Ben," Matt leaned back and watched a couple girls nearby playing Yahtzee for a few seconds. Jimmy considered the younger boy.

Of the Mason brothers, Matt was perhaps the worst off. He was too young to serve much of a purpose in the 2nd Mass yet, though Jimmy had seen the younger boy staring longingly at the fighters practicing on the shooting range on a number of occasions. He was forced to sit back and wait while his older brothers went off to war every day, and in that time, probably mulled a great deal over the absence of their father. Not to mention, because he was stuck at camp all day, Matt bore the brunt of their community's misgivings about Ben's status as formerly harnessed and Professor Mason's decision to climb aboard an alien craft.

And it didn't help that none of the Masons seemed predisposed to sitting back and doing nothing. Matt was restless, it was evident in the way his knees bounced, in the way he absently chewed his nails to bleeding and his eyes darted anxiously – no, _anticipatorily_ - at every movement in the room. It was, to a mild extent, that same caged animal look Ben sometimes got when he had to spend more than a couple days at camp.

"Do you guys play often?" Jimmy wondered. He'd seen a few games between the brothers, but not in recent days. It was hard to find time.

"Not anymore," Matt lamented, "He has patrol a lot…and then this new mission."

The small boy slumped and glared at the chessboard, gnawing on his thumbnail.

"And, you know, when he is here, he's always somewhere with you."

The blood drained from Jimmy's face, his stomach folding, his limbs growing cold and heavy at the younger boy's words. Though the statement had carried no malice, no bitterness, Jimmy sensed that there was an underlining challenge beneath them, a removing of the gloves.

"If you and Ben don't play chess, what do you do together?" Matt innocently questioned, staring intently up at Jimmy. The blood rushed back into Jimmy's head, hot and red.

"Uh…what?" he stammered.

Matt shrugged, "What do you guys do all the time? You both go off alone so much, you have to be doing something, right? Otherwise it would be boring and Ben wouldn't want to go. So…do you play another game or…"

"Nothing," Jimmy cried, aghast, "We do nothing."

This was not a conversation he should be having with Ben's younger brother.

Matt perked a brow and folded his arms over his chest.

"Nothing," he repeated, dubiously, then smirking slyly, he wondered, "So…then I could probably hang out with you guys next time, right?"

Jimmy buried his face in his palm and sighed. Oh yeah, that would go over well with everyone.

"Well…no...I don't know…" he stammered, "You see, we don't do nothing…is the thing…we do…stuff…but…"

"Like…kiss?" Matt pressed; his expression the perfect mask of young naivety, clearly disguising the devil inside. Jimmy drew his breath in sharply and leered at Matt through his fingers. This kid might not make it until his brothers got back.

"Maybe…" Jimmy mumbled, he rolled his eyes, dropped his voice low and admitted, "Yes."

"I knew it," Matt grinned, "So…kissing is really fun then, huh?"

"Can we…focus on the game?" Jimmy hissed.

"It must be fun, or Ben would rather be playing chess. But it doesn't look fun, it looks really gross," Matt persisted.

Jimmy furrowed his brow, frowned a little. There weren't a lot of fighters around camp making out, and as far as Jimmy knew, Matt wasn't spying around the First Night. The only ones he would have seen kissing in recent times was Ben and Jimmy, and that sort of miffed Jimmy a little, because he didn't think they looked 'gross' when kissing. Of course, he couldn't actually see, so it was hard to tell, but he was fairly certain they looked alright. It felt like they knew where everything was supposed to go.

"What is with the sudden interest?" Jimmy demanded, glumly moving one of his small, nubby pieces along the chess board, making a loud scraping noise in the effort. At least those ones he could remember the maneuvering capabilities of: _forward_.

Matt shrugged, said nothing a moment as he looked at the chess board. He moved one of his pieces, the one that resembled a horse but wasn't actually called a horse – who the hell named these pieces anyways – and claimed one of Jimmy's small, nubby pieces, placing it carelessly to the side of the board. Jimmy leaned on his knee, chin propped up in the palm of his hand.

"I lied," Matt suddenly announced and Jimmy straightened abruptly.

"About what?" he demanded, "Did you tell me the wrong rules for this game, because I swear to God, Matt, if I have to remember all new rules…"

"No," Matt interjected, "Ben did kiss one of his friends from before."

Jimmy's mouth slammed shut and he swore his heart momentarily sputtered and died at that statement, little blood cells rushing forward with an artificial defibrillator machine, kick starting it back into action. He felt winded, as though someone had slammed him hard in the chest.

"I forgot about it. It was once. On the couch, in the den," Matt went on, eyes still fixated on the chess board, "I was sitting on the top of the stairs watching them," Jimmy smirked distantly, typical younger sibling, "They were playing a game, and some of them went to get drinks and Ben and Lindsey stayed downstairs."

"Lindsey?" Jimmy interjected, a tiny quiver in his tone.

"Yeah. I remember her name because she was always beating Ben at things, like, they were always trying to outdo each other's test scores…stupid things like that, and he was always yelling about it," Matt explained then sighing, "They were just talking for a little bit and I don't know what about, and then she told him to do it. To kiss her. So he did."

"Oh," Jimmy murmured. He didn't understand why he felt the way he did listening to Matt's story, as though Ben were kissing this Lindsey girl right then, right in front of him. Ben was far from being Jimmy's first kiss; he supposed it was irrational to think that he was Ben's. Yet, somehow, it stung to know that someone else had tasted that bittersweet mouth, and what's more, tasted it before him.

"It was really quick, kind of like…" Matt pursed his lips and pecked the air, then smirked up at Jimmy and conspiratorially whispered, "Didn't look anything like the kiss Ben gave you, like…" Matt imitated what he thought Ben's kiss to look like, mouth dangling open, sloshing back and forth, his tongue hanging out, lapping at the air.

Jimmy groaned, flustered, "Matt, cut that out!"

"That's what it looked like," Matt insisted, clamping his mouth shut and smiling sweetly up at the older boy. Jimmy contemplated smacking him upside the head, but decided against it, he would leave that to the older Mason brothers to handle. He moved another of the nubby pieces and waited for Matt to make a move.

"So…Lindsey was…Ben's girlfriend?" Jimmy tentatively wondered, heart fluttering in his chest. Matt made a face.

"No," he wistfully replied, "She was Marty's girlfriend. Well, that's what they said all the time, anyway. They were always holding hands and hugging each other and stuff. But, my mom said she thought Lindsey had a crush on Ben and was always asking him how she was doing."

"Oh. Okay," Jimmy murmured, not sure why he felt so relieved by the answer.

"My mom always teased Ben about that kind of stuff," Matt said, solemnly, "Dad would tell her not to rush him, that Ben would find a girlfriend in his own time, but mom would say she wanted him to have one '_now'_, so she could dress him up in nice clothes and drive him around on dates. Ben would get really embarrassed."

"I bet," Jimmy muttered, thinking it was a silly way for a mother to behave.

Jimmy's own mother never pestered him about those kinds of things. He figured it was just because she had her own things to be concerned about, her own life to live. In a peculiar way, he almost envied Ben's life from before, almost wondering if that was maybe how a mother was really meant to be, pushing her son towards dating, and girls, teasing him about it, while the father stood by and attempted to save his son's humility.

"Do you ever miss your parents?" Matt questioned suddenly and Jimmy startled.

Matt had folded his arms on the tabletop where they'd set up their chessboard, and he rest his chin atop. The look Matt wore then, like a crestfallen puppy, reminded Jimmy so much of Ben that he couldn't help smiling faintly at the younger boy, though the inquiry caused his heart to pound viciously against his ribcage. A few seconds ticked by and Matt didn't stir from his resting spot on the tabletop, and it occurred to Jimmy then what the younger boy was really asking.

Jimmy frowned, and returned gently, "Yes. I do."

A small smile flitted across Matt's features. Jimmy moved one of his pieces and Matt frowned.

"You can't move that there," he said.

"What? Why?" Jimmy demanded, "It's one of the little pieces, you said I could move them forward, it's forward!"

"Yeah, but my pawn is blocking yours," Matt replied.

"Can't I take it?" Jimmy persisted, growing increasingly frustrated with the increasingly confusing rules. Matt had already claimed several of Jimmy's pieces the same exact way, by taking those that were blocking the natural paths of his own pieces.

"Pawns don't capture by moving forward. They capture diagonally," Matt answered, strumming his fingers impatiently on the table top. Jimmy scowled.

"That's stupid. So what, I'm just stuck there?" Jimmy cried, and Matt nodded response, "That isn't fair. If I move anything else I'll lose it!"

Matt smirked cruelly, "I know."

"You're getting your ass kicked by a nine-year-old," Ben's voice rang through the room and Jimmy slammed his mouth tightly shut on the slew of curse words he had prepped on his tongue and was aiming Matt's direction, tilting his head round to watch the other boy advance on them. Ben leaned over the table and swept his eyes across the board, a coy smile hiding in the corner of his lip.

"When did you get back?" Jimmy wondered, eying darkly the neat little pile of his pieces Matt had collected on the side of the board, rolling in his palm the one piece he'd managed to capture in all the time they'd been playing. Matt gleefully moved Jimmy's chess piece, the nubby one, back where it started and Jimmy glared daggers at the little boy.

"Just now," Ben answered.

"I already beat Jimmy twice," Matt announced proudly and Jimmy scowled. He knew the younger brother was just trying to impress the elder, and it was endearing and all, but seriously, did he have to be such a jerk about it?

"Did you?" Ben laughed, ruffling his brother's hair, while grinning bemused at Jimmy, who sulked, leaning against the table and eying the chess pieces warily.

It was still Jimmy's turn, but now with Ben standing over them, there was suddenly all this intense pressure to perform. Chess was Ben's favorite game and Jimmy really didn't want to screw up and look like the world's biggest dumbass by moving a piece the wrong way, yet it seemed inevitable, as he reached for the only piece he thought himself capable of moving and slid it along the board. Matt shook his head and slapped a hand to his face. Ben merely smirked, moving the piece back to its original position. Jimmy felt sure he could just curl up and die there, no one pay him any mind…stupid, fucking game.

"Knights can't move to adjacent squares," Ben gently explained, then he thoughtfully picked up a different piece and set it down in a new spot; "Check and…" he ticked his finger back and forth in the air over the board before firmly stating, "Mate in two."

"What?" Matt screamed incredulously, gaping at the chess board in stun.

Jimmy perked a brow, straightening and grinning smugly at the younger boy. He wasn't exactly sure what Ben had just said but from the sounds of it, he was entitled to a satisfying: take that, brat.

"How did today go?" Jimmy asked, turning his attention back to Ben's arrival. Matt ignored them, busily trying to figure out exactly how Ben had him beat.

"Okay," Ben answered quietly, watching Matt with a distant expression. Jimmy furrowed his brow, the other boy was noticeably not looking at him and Jimmy didn't take that as a good indication Ben was being entirely forthright.

"Uh-huh," Jimmy drawled skeptically, inspecting Ben, "If it went so well then why are you covered in foul-smelling goo?"

"I had a run-in with a Skitter," Ben explained, smirking, "It's dead. I'm not. That means things went…" he met Jimmy's scrutinizing glare then, smiling although it didn't quite reach his eyes, he was definitely hiding something, "…okay."

"Hey, Ben, you want to play?" Matt chirped eagerly and Ben glanced at the younger boy quickly before dropping his eyes and fidgeting with his gloves.

"Actually, I was on my way to the showers, saw you two in here, thought I'd say 'hi', but I got to go clean Skitter off then report in with Weaver, and then I got to grab food, I'm starved," Ben mumbled apologetically, "Another time, okay, Matt?"

Matt nodded, mouthing a silent 'okay', as he began lining chess pieces back on the board. Ben ghosted his fingertips across Jimmy's forehead, brushing silken strands of brown to the side and Jimmy raised his eyes up to the meet the other boy's soft gaze.

"Tent later?" Ben asked in a low whisper.

Jimmy nodded stiffly, his eyes darting every so often to Matt, the younger boy stared glumly at the reset chessboard. Without another word, Ben departed; ruffling Matt's hair in passing. Jimmy's eyes lingered on the room exit long after Ben had disappeared through it and faded down the hall.

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A/N: Part of what I wanted to explore in this story was how Jimmy and Ben's relationship would put a strain on Ben's relationship with his brothers. It's already hard enough to find time together when in the midst of a war, I'm sure, but throw in a new romance and suddenly family bonding time drops to the very bottom of the priority list for a budding teenage boy.

Also, if you've never played chess before, apologies, it plays heavily in a symbolic sense throughout the story. I'm not very good at chess and don't know all the rules and tactics and what not, but I do know that a good chess player can see defeat coming several moves ahead of time...which is why Ben's always saying 'mate in two' or things along that line.

Lastly, some of you might remember that Jimmy is supposed to be really good at math in this story, and might know that mathematicians tend to like chess (it's all geometrical moves is why...), and probably wonder why Jimmy hates the game isn't better at it. It comes up later...much later in the story again.

Okie, let me know what you guys think please!

Reviewers: Facepalmer123, okie. IcicleLilly, I'm sorry about the disappointment I'm trying my damndest to make sure the story is still interesting. Cookie97, I know, Ben dorkiness is a little irresistible, I can't help writing him that way...I'm glad you're able to understand Hal a little better now and don't hate him quite so much in the story. As for Perks of Being a Wallflower, I will say that the movie did inspire me to want to read the book. The story was very good, it was evident in the movie, but I didn't think the movie handled it well...everything just felt over-rushed. I don't know. You might enjoy it more because you read the book, or you might hate it more because you read the book. JDMlvr1, glad you liked it!

Alright people, I'll see you all on Sunday. NaNoWriMo starts today, you should all be writing!


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: This site is giving me the wrong word count. It's telling me this chapter is like half the size it actually is, so I'm a little stressed that something is being deleted during the upload. I don't know, we'll see. This is a long-ass chapter tho, apologies, it got away from me when I was writing it. Oh well.

Thank you to the reviewers, you guys are the reason I keep updating.

A thank you to Greg for beta-ing this chapter.

Read.

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The community center had a pool. Though it was in good condition despite nearly a year without proper maintenance, most of the water had evaporated and there really wasn't time to swim anyhow. The 2nd Mass drained the pool, using it as additional storage space. Attached to the pool were locker rooms, one for men and one for women, and each locker room had a row of four showers.

Ben tried valiantly to ignore the pointed looks he received from some of the men in the locker room when he entered, striding towards the showers and waiting patiently for those currently occupying them to finish their washing. There was a line of about five men and boys waiting to clean off and the one nearest Ben shuffled a few inches forward, an attempt to put a greater distance between them. Ben snorted softly, folded his arms over his chest, and glared up at the ceiling. Maybe he should have asked Jimmy to join him. Ben smirked at the thought, there's an offer Jimmy would've slugged him for making.

It was an odd sort of reprieve, thinking of the boy while standing in a den of wolves. Jimmy always somehow managed to make Ben feel better, even when he wasn't presently there.

When it came Ben's turn to use the shower, he was granted a privacy that was rarely given to anyone else. No one wanted to shower while he was in the stall. He pushed the pain of that inaction from his fellows aside and, remaining fully clothed, turned the water on.

Cold, the water was always cold. Ben tugged his gloves off; he would wash those later, and rinsed his hands under the clear stream, droplets bit into his flesh like a cascade of icicles. He splashed some of the water up his arms, into his face and across his neck, attempting to rinse away the Skitter innards that, in the journey home, had cohered to his skin. There was a bar of soap attached by a string to the faucet, and he used it to scrub away the grime, then he turned off the faucet and shook himself to knock away some of the clinging water.

There wasn't much to dry off with, so Ben ignored the dampness of his skin and hair, and strode through the community center to Captain Weaver's make-shift headquarters. Dai and Hal were already there going over details of the alien structure and the surrounding area with the captain, they barely lifted their heads to acknowledge Ben's entry.

"…there are a lot of units down there," Hal was saying, "I don't know if this mission is going to be a real possibility."

"What do you think, Ben? How did things look ground level?" Captain Weaver boomed, turning the attention to the newcomer. Ben faltered in his advancement towards the gathered men, folding his arms over his chest and feeling very much like he was having one of those dreams where he showed up at school naked.

"Heavy, but manageable," he answered earnestly, "There are a lot of Skitters, not many mechs. I think we could handle it. Something about the structure, though, captain…"

"Yeah, I was looking at these pictures you took," Captain Weaver interjected, pushing the button on the camera to scroll through the digital images on screen; "This is new, isn't it? The aliens have been putting up structures, yeah, but I haven't seen one like this yet. What is with the glare here…?"

"I had a lot of trouble getting the thing into focus," Ben explained, crossing the room and coming to stand at Weaver's shoulder to peer at the same pictures the old man was viewing, "It was kind of like…it wasn't solid, sir. It moved and, it didn't really have any color, it was just refracting light."

"Moved?" Dai repeated, perking a brow at the younger boy. Ben shrugged, tightening his arms around himself.

"Yeah, I don't know," he murmured, "I might've seen it wrong…but it looked like it…it changed. Repositioned itself? Like it might be…living or something."

The three men exchanged looks.

"Why didn't you mention this before?" Hal demanded, shifting his weight back and forth anxiously and folding his arms across his own chest. He was leering at his younger brother, anger flickering in his expression.

Ben rolled his eyes, "I don't know. I'm mentioning it now. It didn't seem important then."

"Calm down, Hal, let your brother talk. Is there anything else you noticed about the structure…thing…whatever the hell it is?"

"Not really, sir," Ben replied, dropping his eyes and whispering, "I think we should destroy it. When I was down there…looking at it…I don't know…I get a bad feeling about it. I don't like it."

"We're gonna work on that," Captain Weaver promised.

"If this structure is made of a unique substance, something alien, we might not know how to destroy it. We may not even be capable," Dai pointed out.

Ben scowled, running a hand over the back of his neck, fingering the spikes protruding there, as he stared scathingly at a spot on the floor. He thought briefly of the pain, of the images that flashed before his eyes, and wondered where he'd seen those landscapes before. They were familiar in their strangeness. He worried about the glow of his spikes, closed his eyes, and shook the thoughts away. He was still himself, he was still in control.

"We'll have to get a better look," Weaver determined, "We need to figure out what this thing is, what it's made of, if it's even just a thing and not a living thing, and maybe see from there what we can do."

"Maybe tomorrow I should scout on foot," Ben suggested, "See how close I can get."

"Not happening, Ben," Hal spoke up, his brother sending him a dark glower, "Today was enough. You're not going back down there."

"It's the only way," Ben argued.

"I'm sorry but you're brother's right, Ben," Weaver cut in, "We risked you today going out there alone and you got hit by a Skitter, I'm not sure I like the idea of sending you down there again."

Ben opened his mouth to protest and Weaver held up a silencing hand.

"At least not without proper backup," the captain finished.

"Great. Then send me with Jimmy," Ben quickly suggested, "He can snipe a Skitter from almost a hundred yards away. You stick him on a roof in a secure location, even if the bugs hear his shots, they'll never find him."

"No can do," Captain Weaver replied, shaking his head and putting his hands on his hips, "Jimmy went through a rough ordeal a few weeks ago; I'm in no rush to send him back into hard battle."

"He's fine," Ben argued.

"Dr. Glass isn't so sure," Weaver returned and Ben clamped down hard on his next protest, his heart thundering in his chest and stomach dropping to the floor. He thought of the night before on the bus, Jimmy nearly passing out against him. Just tired, the boy had claimed, but Ben could feel how lax Jimmy's body had gone in that moment, cradled against his chest, he could sense a frail and brittle weakness in the other boy, one he had shrugged off at the time but now…? Now he wondered if maybe it hadn't been just plain tiredness, maybe Dr. Glass had found something else.

"What do you mean?" Ben whispered.

"Physically he seems fine," Weaver elucidated, and Ben felt his heart pace slow to a more normal rate, he could draw air into his lungs again, "He made a quick recovery, just what I'd expect from a good fighter like him, but Dr. Glass isn't so sure of his…uh…psychological state," Weaver shook his head, made a face, "Can't say I buy into the spiritual bull crap she talks about sometimes, but I knew boys from my days in service that suffered PTSD…"

"You think he's got a stress disorder? So you're taking him out of the fight?" Ben demanded, shaking his head, agitated on behalf of the other boy, "Hell, Weaver, everyone in the 2nd Mass has got some psychological issue, whether it's stress or trauma or who the hell knows what else. It's not fair. You can't do that to him. Fighting is his life now, he needs it. He doesn't feel like he belongs without it!"

Weaver stared in stun at Ben a moment and Ben lowered his eyes, realizing he may have said too much. If Jimmy knew the things Ben had just revealed, it was possible he would never speak to Ben again, he would feel so betrayed.

"I'm not taking him out of anything," Weaver assured Ben in a soft, yet firm, voice, "I'm giving him a breather, easing him back into battle instead of throwing him in head first, at least until I've got a better stock of where his head's at, alright? Meanwhile, I've got him working on this different project, something that I think – I hope – will help the 2nd Mass more over the long run than anything else we do in these next couple weeks."

Ben furrowed his brow, peeking up at the captain in surprise. Jimmy hadn't mentioned any 'project'.

"For now, let's focus on learning the enemy's movements around the target. Just watch, get a rough count of units in the area, figure out guard shifts – if there are any to figure out," Weaver went on, "I want to know what's down there before we step into it. Then, we'll talk about sending you on a recon closer to the structure," he gave a meaningful look to Hal, the older brother poised to protest, "_With backup._"

Ben bristled, and sighed, "Okay, sir."

"Yes, sir," Hal begrudgingly murmured.

"You boys are dismissed. Good work today. Go grab some grub and get some rest," Captain Weaver instructed.

Hal and Ben shuffled reluctantly from the room, leaving the two commanders together to discuss upcoming battle plans and various other important tasks. Outside of the room, Hal stopped Ben from rushing off with a light hand on his shoulder.

"What are your plans tonight?" Hal questioned, in a tone that suggested Ben's answer didn't really matter because he had plans of his own he intended to impose.

"None of your business," Ben slowly replied, tugging his arm from his brother's grasp.

"Spend time in the center, with Matt and me," Hal suggested, "We'll play Parcheesi or something."

Ben rolled his eyes.

"Jimmy could join us," Hal stiffly offered.

"Yeah, 'cause he would love that," Ben spat out cynically.

"He might," Hal returned, "He hung out with Matt and me a lot before we got you back. Remember?"

Ben folded his arms over his chest, scowled at the ground.

"I get that you have this whole thing going on with him-"

"It's called a 'relationship', Hal," Ben sneered, "Me and him have a 'relationship'."

"Fine. You have a relationship," Hal snapped, "But that doesn't mean you have to be each other's entire worlds. You heard the captain; Dr. Glass is worried that Jimmy might be going through some mental trauma. Being around other people, and not just you, would be healthy for him, and if you really cared about him, you would see that."

A violent urge flinched through Ben, adrenaline kicking instantly into his veins. He growled low in the back of his throat, his eyes darkened on his brother.

"Don't you dare accuse me of not caring about him," Ben hissed.

"I wasn't accusing you of anything, Ben, though, you know, it would be nice if you could explain to me why it is you seem perfectly happy taking advantage of him shutting down?" Hal returned sharply, "He pushes everyone away and you just encourage it. Why is that? Because it doesn't matter so long as he gets on that bus with you?"

"Shut the hell up," Ben seethed.

"You want to throw around words like 'relationship', Ben, as if you know what it means," Hal pressed on, rage trembling in his words, "But you're not even mature enough to see when your selfish desires might be hurting the person you claim to care so much about."

"I said don't-"

"And hell, Ben, what do you honestly think you're doing with him? Where do you actually see it going?" Hal ranted, "I mean…what…do you see a future with him or something? Hell, Ben, do you even think about the future? Because, you know, making choices that are going to hurt him in the long-run…"

"I do," Ben stammered, "I do think about the future." He was losing strength in his words; fury and frustration were the only clear thoughts in his head. Adrenaline was kicking hard through his veins. It was too hot in the hall, and in his head.

"No you don't," Hal roared, "You're the one who said you don't even see today. I'm trying to make you see-"

Ben couldn't explain how his brother ended up shoved against the wall, his own fists holding the older boy pinned there by the shirt collar. Ben's eyes were narrowed to dangerous slits. Hal gaped down at him, startled and surprised.

For a moment, they stood like that, both stunned by the action. Then Ben regained control of himself, letting his brother go, and wordlessly turning on heel, striding hastily down the corridor and out of the community center without another look back.

Ben was mildly disappointed when he got back to his tent to find that Jimmy wasn't there yet, but he hadn't exactly specified a time for their meet. He peeled the rank-smelling clothes from his body and dressed in the freshest garments he could find lying around. He changed out the bandages on his waist, checking the damage caused by the Skitter, touching the tattered flesh, lightly scabbed over and discolored a grotesque purple and blue around the edges, and winced slightly.

The used gauze and tape he bundled up were soaked through in blood. He stuffed them into his duffle to be trashed later with the rest of 2nd Mass's waste. He shoved his clothes from that day on top; he would take them down for a cleaning early morning before he had to head out again to the target with Dai, Hal, and Pope.

Hal's words repeated in Ben's mind, over and over and over again: _Do you even think about the future_? It slammed a memory to the forefront of his thoughts, something distant and faded, a dream that had disappeared with morning but somehow returned to him in that moment, triggered by his brother's cruel ramblings.

_This is our future. Embrace it._

And suddenly Ben knew where he'd seen that alien landscape before. It came to him in a white hot flash that ripped through his skull like a serrated knife. He grimaced, scowled, and pushed the memory away, feeling the contents of his stomach rising to the back of his throat. His body tingled with the kick of adrenaline, a more potent dose than the tidbit that had tainted his bloodstream when talking to Hal. This was the stuff that begged to be used, the stuff that dragged him into the late night, and forced him to seek out the enemy.

There was a sound at the tent opening and Ben spun round, eyes wild with intent. Jimmy stood there, looking at Ben in wide-eyed stun, taking a small step back as though considering exiting once more. A broad grin split across Ben's face and he crossed the tent, dragging the other boy stumbling forward and pressing a rough kiss to his mouth.

"Hey," Ben whispered greeting, sounding breathless, and Jimmy smirked response.

Ben slipped his arm round Jimmy's waist, squeezing out all space between their bodies and dived into another kiss, deeper and more refined than the first, parting their lips and slipping his tongue in to probe and tease and draw out an involuntary moan from the other boy's throat. Jimmy pushed Ben away then and gasped for air, ducking his head down to hide the flush.

"Slow down," he complained, "For Christ's Sake, Ben, I just got here."

"I'm sorry," Ben said, resting his mouth against Jimmy's neck and lining the soft, pale skin there with light kisses that sometimes nipped less than gently. Eventually, he rested their foreheads together, and studied the other boy's delicate features. God, he missed this in their times apart. How did he really continue for hours on end without a single touch from this person, let alone a glimpse of that painstakingly grim face and those crystalline blue eyes?

"Are you okay?" Jimmy murmured, his breathing labored and cheeks blistered with heat.

Jimmy was having trouble forming words, and something about that made him simply irresistible. It made Ben want to kiss Jimmy again and again and the best part was that he could, and so he did.

At least, until Jimmy put up a hand to hold him back.

"_Ben_," Jimmy growled warningly. He clearly wasn't in the mood to play.

Ben sighed, agitated. He pulled away from Jimmy and walked a few paces towards the back of his tent. He needed to put distance between them; he couldn't concentrate so close to that warm body, that sweet scent, that flighty breath that hinted something sensual.

"I'm fine. Why?" Ben demanded.

"You just…seem on edge," Jimmy answered carefully.

"Right," Ben mumbled. He glanced to Jimmy again, the other boy standing stiffly by the tent entrance, wary eyes studying Ben. Jimmy wouldn't buy anything less than the truth, so Ben sighed, and resignedly gave it to him, partially anyway, "That's because I got in a fight with Hal."

"Ben," Jimmy chastised. He shook his head and tentatively asked, "What about?"

"You," Ben said absently, the answer tumbling accidentally off his tongue and causing Jimmy to flinch visibly, so he quickly, casually added, "And our dad and responsibilities and dangerous missions, etcetera, etcetera…you know, typical Hal bullshit."

"Oh," Jimmy mumbled, "What…about…all of that?"

"Nothing. Nothing about all of that," Ben grumbled, "He's just being his usual asshole self. He thinks he knows everything, what's best for everyone. He keeps trying to tell me what to do, no matter how many times I tell him he's not in charge, he's not my boss."

Jimmy shot Ben an exasperated expression and Ben rolled his eyes, knowing exactly what that look meant without a single word from the other boy.

"I can't believe you're on his side," Ben griped.

"I'm not. I swear," Jimmy hastily denied, not sounding at all convincing, "I just think you need to relax. I mean, maybe he doesn't know everything…but he does know some stuff. He's older, he has more experience, he's been in the resistance longer, and he's just trying to look out for you. You got to remember, Ben, he's your older brother, he cares about you. He's not just bossing you around because he wants to be in charge, he's doing it because he's trying to protect you."

"He's trying to keep me from doing my job," Ben cried, then faltered and raged, "He's trying to keep me from you."

Again, Jimmy flinched, his gaze dropping blankly to the ground. Ben could hear the other boy's heart pounding something wicked.

"If that's what he thinks is best…" Jimmy stammered. Ben crossed the tent and had him drawn into a strong embrace before he could even consider a way to finish that heart-wrenched statement.

"He's wrong," Ben insisted.

Jimmy didn't respond, his arms hanging limp at his sides.

"He doesn't understand," Ben complained, closing his eyes and breathing Jimmy in, "He thinks it's just some childish crush, talks about us like all we do is mess around."

"Isn't that…all we do?" Jimmy weakly joked.

Ben smirked, pulled back a bit to give the other boy a meaningful look. Jimmy shrugged, searched the floor with a distant gaze. He looked a little lost, and a little harassed. Ben couldn't really blame the other boy; he knew Jimmy could only handle so much deep, emotional chatter before it took a toll. Weaver's concerns from earlier, about Jimmy's mental state, flittered through Ben's mind.

It had been less than three weeks since Jimmy had intentionally blown himself up in that warehouse building then spent two days after wandering around without food or water – the details of those days he still wouldn't, and probably never would, share with Ben. When they found him again, his behavior seemed erratic at first, he was more cold and closed off than he had ever before been, but Ben didn't pay it much more mind when the other boy made the decision to plunge their relationship far into the deep end, unabashedly requesting sex, which Ben reluctantly yet happily obliged.

And God, it felt good, that first time and every time after, exploring and pleasuring one another.

But Ben would be a fool if he didn't admit that he'd always know there was something sinister eating away inside of Jimmy, even before he'd had the chance to go on patrol with the other boy, and learned bits and pieces of his dark past. Jimmy's mental state was certainly a concern, but not because of the incident three weeks ago. Truthfully, he'd always been unstable.

When he lay next to Ben that first time they made love or something like it, Jimmy had confessed his dream of the future: he intended to die either in battle or after the war ended in victory by putting a bullet in his own head.

The future.

Ben tried to picture it, but he couldn't get passed the image of them in the now. It was aggravating, it almost made it seem as though Hal could be right and Hal _wasn't_ right. He didn't know anything about it, didn't know the emotions Ben and Jimmy shared, the secrets that had passed between them, made them stronger together.

After Jimmy's confession, Ben had promised that he would bring them safely to victory and keep Jimmy from ever pulling that trigger, and that was exactly what he planned to do, even if he couldn't fathom the war ever ending, even if he feared that this moment, this one that saw Jimmy held tight in his arms, might be the last moment they ever had together. And if not this one, then the next, or the next.

Ben brushed a kiss to Jimmy's jawline, the other boy remaining cool and unmoving. It wasn't that Ben didn't think about the future, it was just that, with the war, and all the death and uncertainty that surrounded them, it was hard to imagine any future whatsoever.

And for that, Ben hated the Skitters just a little more.

"We also practice shooting at the range," Ben teasingly noted, in reply to Jimmy's original jest. He broke away from Jimmy, moving through the tent, nudging a few items around with his foot as though searching for something. He needed to get out of there, he was starting to feel restless, and irritated, his previous anger with Hal coming back in full force and mingling with his unending loathe of all things alien. He needed to go hunting.

Jimmy smiled faintly, eyes downcast, and hands sliding into his pockets.

"We should take Matt with us next time…when we're out shooting," he quietly suggested. Ben perked a brow.

"Why?"

"I don't know," Jimmy mumbled, shrugging. He took a few steps further into the tent, eyed Ben's chaotic mess, "He likes to watch the fighters shoot. And he gets bored staying in camp all day. I think it'd be nice for him…is all…"

"Okay, I guess…if you want," Ben murmured, frowning. Admittedly, it always made him nervous being around his brothers with Jimmy, as though they were constantly examining the pair, looking for any 'romantic' interaction that they could call out and pick apart.

Hal was the worst of the two, scrutinizing everything Ben and Jimmy did together, and using it as fuel for his 'stay-focused' argument. Matt was more curious than anything, but that could be horrible in and of itself. He asked some of the most awkward questions like, 'will I want to kiss a boy too?' or 'my friend Troy told me that boys have to be with girls because one is an out and the other is an in, so…how can you and Jimmy be together if you're both out and what does that mean anyways?' or Jimmy's personal favorite usually preempted by anything Ben tried to do that was considerate of the other boy '…does that make Jimmy 'the girl'?'.

"Why do you say it like that?" Jimmy wondered, "He's your brother. You should want to spend time with him."

"I do want to spend time with him. But not when I'm spending time with you," Ben replied, turning to smirk lightly at Jimmy.

Jimmy shook his head, grimaced at the ground.

It was clear something was distressing the other boy, but Ben wasn't sure exactly what. As far as Ben knew, he hadn't done anything wrong lately. Jimmy had accepted every kiss he'd given, though didn't really give any in return, but that didn't mean anything. It usually took time and persistence before Jimmy felt like being affectionate. They hadn't had any real arguments lately either, in fact, things had been pretty smooth between them for the most part – just a few trivial spats here and there, which…maybe…for Jimmy, was cause enough to be frustrated.

Sometimes Ben wondered if Jimmy preferred to be at odds with someone, pushing them back just to prove that he could. Ben sighed, or maybe it was something else altogether, something outside of Ben that he didn't know about like Weaver's special 'project'. Given Jimmy's propensity to not share, it was a distinct possibility, and Ben felt certain he may never figure out why Jimmy behaved in the ways he did.

It was almost as though Jimmy were this never-ending puzzle; Ben could spend years trying to solve him and only manage to uncover new pieces that didn't quite fit but clearly belonged to the overall image. It could be infuriating at times.

"Then maybe _we_ should spend less time together," Jimmy muttered, and his words shot through Ben like a slew of bullets.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Ben demanded shakily, even as his brain already began to conjure up some of the worst interpretations of that single phrase possible. He reviewed Jimmy's behavior since entering the tent, trying to search for clues that he hoped he wouldn't find which would support his greatest fear of the other boy's meaning. Jimmy had pushed Ben's advances away, maybe it wasn't just so they could talk, and maybe talking was just an excuse.

"Nothing," Jimmy murmured, shaking his head and staring haplessly at the ground, "It doesn't mean anything."

Ben frowned, watching the other boy warily, not entirely convinced. Jimmy darted a glance to him, then sighed, rubbing a hand over his features and groaning.

"I'm just tired, okay?" he confessed, then sheepishly grumbled, "And I'm just…so mad that Weaver has me stuck here at camp all day and you're out there…_without_ me and…and I worry about…you…and…I don't know."

"Yeah…I know," Ben conceded, smirking despite himself.

Jimmy had to be really exhausted, Ben decided, because he didn't usually admit concern casually like that; there was generally more fire and brimstone involved, and even sometimes, bloodshed.

"Don't patronize me," Jimmy spat angrily. Okay, maybe he wasn't _that_ tired, "You don't fucking know anything. You're the one that's out there every day being put to use, and I'm stuck here playing chess with your little brother, getting my ass kicked as you so kindly pointed out, thank you very fucking much. Your family couldn't play Connect-Four? I'm awesome at Connect-Four."

"I'm…sorry?"

"And you know what, fuck you, and your super Skitter powers, you asshole," Jimmy raged on, and even though Ben flinched at the comment, he couldn't find it in him to feel hurt by the words, Jimmy was far too cute when riled up like that, all Ben could do was fight his urge to smile and just stare blank-faced, "Why the fuck do you always have to be the one that saves the day? Huh? Because your amped up by alien-gene scrambling? How is that fucking fair? It's like you're on intergalactic steroids! Some of us want to go out there every now and then and shoot Skitters too, you know! But no, you're the special one, so you get to go on all the super special assignments and we normal fighters are forced to just sit back and twiddle our thumbs…"

Jimmy finally caught Ben smiling at him and faltered, furrowing his brows and darting his eyes anxiously around the tent, suddenly self-conscious.

"What?" he grumbled.

"You…" Ben started softly, but left the word dangling precariously in the air, moving slowly forward to close the distance between himself and Jimmy.

"You're annoying when you're cryptic," Jimmy informed him.

"Can't help it…" Ben leaned forward to nestle his mouth against Jimmy's, not a full kiss, just the beginning of one, "You'll hit me if I finish that thought."

Then he sunk down, pressing himself fully against Jimmy, and sliding his hands up to grasp the other boy's shoulders, loose yet firm. It seemed Jimmy was finally done ranting as he eased into the kiss. He was first to part their lips this time and slide his tongue tantalizingly up along the roof of Ben's mouth.

Jimmy had this way of making his every movement so ridiculously slow, so stimulatingly meaningful, that it ached throughout Ben's entire body, driving him insane with want and when Jimmy was done, Ben couldn't help but eagerly dive in and make up for the way Jimmy made him wait. Plunging his tongue roughly into every groove, every nook, every cranny of Jimmy's mouth, and forcing the most erotic noises from Jimmy's throat.

Ben's hands dropped purposefully down along Jimmy's back, drawing Jimmy more firmly against him, deepening their kiss if it were at all possible, as his hands wandered up under Jimmy's shirt, careening none-too-gently over bare skin, fiercely massaging the contours of Jimmy's back muscles, Jimmy whimpering at the touch and only further encouraging Ben's ministrations.

Jimmy's hands sidled up along Ben's sides and then slid under his t-shirt, soft fingertips trailing sensuously over shivering muscle, up towards…

Ben flinched back, grabbing Jimmy's hands and halting their curious travels mere micrometers from the edge of his freshly wrapped bandages, where therein rose a whole tower of lies Ben didn't want toppling over. He broke hastily from Jimmy's embrace and walked away from the other boy a few paces, eyes squeezed tightly closed, as he ran his hands over his face, trying to cool his head and calm his body.

"You know…I'm uh… actually really tired, I should go to bed," Ben rattled off the first excuse to come to mind.

Ben had been hunting almost every night for the past couple weeks and each night involved a new lie he had to tell the other boy, because if Jimmy knew what Ben really went off to do, he would want to join, and Ben hadn't felt ready to let Jimmy join yet. It was true that Jimmy was healing well – he still grimaced if he put too much weight on his right leg, every now and then he absently brought a hand up to rub soreness from his shoulder but otherwise, for someone who'd been trapped in a demolishing building, he was in good shape.

So, patrols were fine for the boy, there was almost nothing to run into, and camp was close enough that back-up was only a short jog away. Missions that put Jimmy on a roof, far, _far_, away from any dangers, were perfect, Ben would have Jimmy there every time if he could. Hunting was up-close and personal, injury was inevitable, death definitely a possibility, and Ben wasn't ready to face the possibility of either happening to Jimmy again, not so soon after the warehouse.

After a few moments, he peeked back at Jimmy. Jimmy had a hand lingering near his mouth, bruised red, glistening with saliva and slightly swollen; his brow was intently furrowed with befuddlement, his cheeks were blistered with obvious heat. He turned momentarily to glance back at the tent entry, then gazed in a stupor at the spot where Ben was recently standing, then raised his eyes up to meet Ben's.

"What?" Jimmy cried incredulously.

Ben turned away from Jimmy again, grimacing as he fumbled for explanation.

"The uh…mission today…it really wore on me…more than I realized…and um…tomorrow, I have to wake up early…and I shouldn't…because I'm tired…and have to…into Skitter territory…so, yeah, I should sleep. That's all."

Jimmy was silent for a very long time and, sensing the other boy had guessed he was lying, Ben braced himself for impact.

"Okay…uh…did you…maybe…want me to stay…?" Jimmy wondered timidly. His voice sounded muffled and distant.

Ben wished he'd braced himself for a harder impact, Jimmy's words punching him full force in the chest and knocking the air clear from his lungs. He let every implication of that offer beat into his brain.

Ben had never spent a night with Jimmy. Sure, they'd had overnight scouting missions, but those were with other fighters and long before Ben had ever had the guts, or the high level of inebriation, to kiss the other boy. And, of course, they'd dozed off next to one another for very brief stints of time after pleasantly experimenting with the other's body and the things that they could do with or to each other, but those were short naps, an hour at the most, and when they woke they had to hurriedly clean up, dress, and return to duty before some busy-body came to investigate the locked storage closet.

This was a night. One entire night. Five, count them, five full hours of holding that sweet, warm, pliable body securely in his arms, because there was only the one sleeping bag and he wasn't sleeping in the cold and he'd be damned if Jimmy was, and he knew in that night his sleep would be such a peaceful one.

Or not.

Seriously, idiot, why would he sleep, why would he go looking for dreams, when he was holding his dream so close to his body? And in the twilight hours, they could linger in bed, without worry of anyone stumbling surprised on their languidly slumbering forms tangled round one another, and when Jimmy woke, Ben would kiss him, a beautiful start to his day, and whether the day itself was good or not after wouldn't matter in the least, because he began it with a kiss first thing from Jimmy and that was all that he would ever remember of that day.

And then Jimmy would discover the bandages, learn he'd been lied to, and all hell would break loose, pointed out the rational side of Ben's brain.

Ben winced.

If Jimmy stayed the night, the temptation would be too great. He couldn't lie next to that boy and not want to kiss him, and kissing led to a wandering of hands, and if Ben's hands wandered, then so would Jimmy's, and there were some places Jimmy's hands just could not wander at that moment because they would stumble upon things Ben was not yet ready to explain.

Ben took a deep breath and turned to look at Jimmy. Jimmy stood uncertain where he'd been left cold moments before by Ben, his hands were shoved deep into his pockets, shoulders scrunched and held tense, eyes slightly downcast, their blue depths shimmering with emotions dark and alluring.

Ben couldn't even begin to comprehend what it must have taken for that boy to make such an offer, to open himself up just that small amount, and Ben hated himself so much in that moment, because he knew once he spoke his next words, that the unintended rejection would cause Jimmy to close off parts of his heart that could take months, if not never, to open up again.

"No," Ben murmured answer, watching Jimmy's reaction carefully, so minute were the changes in his features it might be missed, but the small glimmer of emotion there was not unlike the shifting expression of one who'd just had a knife plunged into his chest, as Ben forced the rest of his words from his stilted mouth, "I don't…want you…to…"

Jimmy lowered his head, brown strands falling into his face and obscuring his dark expression. He shrugged, nonchalant, but his shoulders were visibly trembling.

"Okay," Jimmy mouthed acceptance, then turned and left without another word.

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A/N: I like this chapter because this is one of the first scenes where you get to see Ben's perspective on something that happens between the boys, and then later you get to see Jimmy's perspective, and they both have very different takes on what went down. I kind of don't like this chapter, also, though because the convo with Hal didn't seem right to me...oh well, let me know what you guys think please?

Man, I hate when I don't have time to work on a story. I spend all day thinking about it, going over the story in my mind over and over again until I just get so _bored_ with it, so that when I finally have a chance to sit down and write, I don't have the motivation or interest and everything I turn out starts getting crappier and crappier. Maybe when we hit winter break I'll get a bit of my mojo back, we'll see. In the meantime, I kind of started a different Falling Skies fanfic...bad writer, I know, I won't be posting that one to the site, at least not for a very long while...and I'll be back to working on Fire Light today. I kind of have to rewrite a bunch of chapters today, because they aren't the way I want them to be...and I have to write two short stories to post to my blog and - deep breath - I have an essay for class I need to write. I will be writing all day.

Dammit, I may fry my brain.

I'm also considering staggering updates again, mainly because I haven't added a new chapter to the stack in over three weeks and I'm already needing to go back in for rewrites..._again_. Fuck. I'm tired. I hate to do that to the loyal readers/reviewers that have stuck with me...so I'll try not to have to, but things are looking grim.

Reviewers: IcicleLilly, how'd you know Jimmy would suggest Matt-Ben bonding time? Yeah, Ben and Hal aren't on great terms right now...they just have different opinions on what's best for Ben and what's best for Jimmy. Haley, yay, you're back! I was worried. Cookie97, Matt is a very innocent character, I like writing his interactions with Jimmy, though I haven't yet explored the depressing side of it with Jimmy and how it might make him miss his little sister all the more. I think I will read the book then, if I have the opportunity. Greg, it's all good, you can be lord and master this chapter. Facepalmer123, I was wondering where you were, glad you remembered!


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Right...this one is significantly shorter than last chapter...but the next chapter is going to be ridiculously long to make up for it...

Thank you to all the lovely reviewers, and the readers as well. I keep worrying about the dip in reviewers, but the number of readers hasn't dropped, so I guess things can't be going that bad...

A big thank you to Greg for beta-ing this chapter, I shot him rewrites last minute and he took it like a champ!

Read.

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XI.

The sun hadn't yet risen, its low light still a smoky gray on the horizon, when Jimmy bummed a cigarette off one of the older fighters and ducked behind the community center to steal a few tokes before he spent his day looking for things to do. He knew he should probably inform Weaver that his assignment was a failure, but he couldn't find the nerve to do it.

The largest, most important task Weaver had ever trusted Jimmy with, and Jimmy fouled it up before he'd even had a chance to start it. He supposed he could find Matt and play a few games of chess, he sort of had a hunch he'd be spending the majority of his time that next week or so entertaining the younger kids. Maybe he could ask Anthony to throw him on the patrol roster; they were thin on fighters as it was, with ten of them scouting future camp sites and four risking their lives to case an alien base.

Jimmy fidgeted with his cigarette, touching it to his bottom lip and considering taking a long drawl as his mind wandered back to the night before and his conversation with Ben. He wondered how much Ben had honestly been telling him about Hal's opinions, he thought about Matt staring dolefully at the chessboard as his older brother opted to spend time with someone else rather than play one measly game with him, and for a moment Jimmy felt he couldn't breathe. He bit his cigarette's filter and dragged the smoke, crackling from the cherry tip, deep into his throat, scratching the whole way down to his lungs.

For several minutes, Jimmy stood in solitude, smoking his cigarette and watching as several other insomniacs in the community wandered around and prepped for the early morning to begin. That was where Ben found him. The other boy rounded the corner and fixed Jimmy with a harsh, reproving glare. Jimmy shot the smoke from his mouth into the open air and returned Ben's expression with an unimpressed one of his own.

"I thought you were going to stop that," Ben muttered, eying the cigarette disdainfully, and coming to stand at Jimmy's side, leaning a shoulder against the wall to watch the other boy. Jimmy took a long, spiteful hit off his cigarette and dispelled the smoke from the side of his mouth, leering at Ben through shaggy brown locks and sallow eyes.

"What made you think that?" Jimmy challenged, "I never said I would."

Ben sighed, and murmured, "Well, maybe I just wish you would."

"I can't help it," Jimmy replied smartly, "It's an addiction."

"Jimmy…" Ben began in a low growl, revving up for his usual preach about the health hazards of tobacco products, as though he were a walking medical pamphlet on the subject.

"Can I help you with something?" Jimmy interjected, it was just too fucking early to deal with Ben's holier-than-thou speeches, "Or are you really just here to bash on my smoke break? Because, seriously, Ben, the last fucking thing I need right now, in the middle of an alien invasion, is a lecture from honorary D.A.R.E. officer Ben Mason about how cigarettes are bad for me despite the fact that I am most likely not going to live long enough for any of the serious side-affects like lung cancer and emphysema to ever develop. So, yeah, shut up and if it bothers you so fucking much then go away."

Ben opened his mouth, closed it, then turned his face away and glared off into the horizon, muttering, "Well, good-morning to you too."

They fell into a tense silence, both gazing angrily opposite directions. Jimmy took a few hits from his cigarette; let the smoke billow out of his mouth in a slow, steady stream.

"I'm leaving in a little bit for recon," Ben murmured, "I just wanted to talk to you before we left."

Jimmy snorted softly but said nothing, raising the cigarette to his lip and letting it rest there a moment as he ran his hands over his arms, an attempt to knock away the chilly air that flitted over them.

"About last night…" Ben began.

Jimmy ripped the cigarette from his lip, his heart imploding in his chest, as he bit down hard on his inner cheek.

"What about last night?" he snapped. He turned a heated glare on the other boy, laid one arm over his stomach, and used it to prop the other up by the elbow which held his cigarette betwixt his middle and index finger. His body was tense and quivering. He had a dangerous glint in his eye and the sneer on his lip just dared Ben to finish that thought.

Ben faltered, turned away, and relented, "Fine. Nothing. Never mind."

A heavy hush fell over the boys, the kind that burdened the mind, and drowned out all other senses. Jimmy wasn't sure where Ben's thoughts were at that moment, but he knew where his wandered with a rise of bile to the back of his throat. He knew it was obnoxious to be upset about Ben's rapt dismissal of him last night, hell, he was more disgusted with himself for even making that offer in the first place.

'Do you want me to stay', it was such a stupid thing to ask. Jimmy cringed to just think about those words falling off his own brazen tongue. Ben had already decided he wasn't in the mood to do anything, and had been somewhat clear about it, and he had mentioned his plans to sleep which took talking out of the equation, so then what possible reason would Jimmy have for sticking around. Were they going to snuggle? Jimmy scoffed, jutted his chin out and took another long drawl from his cigarette, it tasted suddenly bitter as though he were breathing the tobacco smoke in for the first time.

"I guess I should get going then," Ben mumbled, he sounded distant.

Jimmy shuddered and gingerly caught the side of his inner cheek in between his teeth, grinding it absently. Ben sighed, shook his head, and relented.

"Right," he said, lifting himself from the wall and starting away, "I'll see you later."

"Wait," Jimmy called out, squeezing his eyes closed and hating himself for just a second. God, why did he have to sound so pathetic? Ben paused at the word, glancing curiously back.

Jimmy rest the cigarette in his mouth and, hands trembling noticeably though he excused it as the cold breeze lilting through the area, he removed the compass he always wore round his neck now when on patrols and missions. It was a loan from Captain Weaver, an attempt to deter any future dilemmas brought on by Jimmy's inability to navigate that were similar to the one after the warehouse which saw him wandering lost for two days the opposite direction of camp before the 2nd Mass, miraculously, found him. Without looking at Ben, Jimmy held it out expectantly. Ben perked a brow, walking back a few paces to take the offered item.

"What is this?" Ben wondered.

"It's a compass, Einstein, and here I thought you were supposed to be smart," Jimmy grumbled response. Ben rolled his eyes.

"I see that it's a compass. Why are you giving it to me?" Ben demanded haughtily. Jimmy shrugged, plucking the cigarette off his lip and letting the smoke seep lazily out of his mouth.

"I'm not giving it to you. I'm letting you use it," Jimmy sharply answered, wrapping his arms more securely around himself and explaining, "I can't be there to help you…so…I figure…this way I can…kind of…be useful…sort of…still. But you have to return it as soon as you get back and you have to be really careful with it. It's Weaver's."

"Weaver's?" Ben repeated, furrowing his brow, "Why do you have it?"

"He's letting me use it," Jimmy said, nonchalant.

"Oh," Ben mouthed then teased, "Because you can't tell north from south?"

Jimmy shook his head, irritated, holding his cigarette down near his thigh and flicking away the ash built up on its tip.

"Thanks, Jimmy," Ben murmured suddenly, his tone soft, tender, sounding almost breathless. He leaned in towards Jimmy with an obvious purpose, but before he could seal the revoltingly sentimental moment with a hasty yet sweet kiss, Jimmy quickly stuck the cigarette between his teeth and Ben jerked back, making a face.

Jimmy eyed Ben smugly around his cigarette, slowly sucking the smoke down his throat, the cigarette tip lighting bright red, noisily crackling as the paper and tobacco simmered and burned.

Ben sighed, smirking sardonically, "Cute. Real cute."

Jimmy shrugged, features dark and shadowed, as he pushed the smoke out of his lungs once more. Ben took a few steps backwards, glaring meaningfully at Jimmy and shaking his head, before turning and making his way towards the bikes where he would meet up with his brother and the rest of his unit. He glanced back to Jimmy over his shoulder a few times in his departure, holding the compass loosely to his body.

After a couple seconds, Jimmy wet his fingertips and used them to put out his cigarette, wincing at the bite of heat he could feel through his developing callouses, and then he tucked the unused half behind his ear for later. He decided he would grab some breakfast, attempt to choke down the oatmeal despite his knotting stomach threatening to be difficult then paused when he glanced the four approaching his direction.

Roman led the pack, the other three unharnessed teenagers trailing reluctantly behind and glancing anxiously around camp. Jimmy shoved his hands in his pockets and perked a brow at them. They stopped several feet away.

"We thought about it," Roman announced, his voice wasn't particularly loud but it was powerful, booming in Jimmy's chest, "We'll give you a chance, brat."

"A chance…for what?" Jimmy pressed, glaring at each of the four teens leering at him, and trying not to let show how incredibly nervous he felt. Douglas wasn't looking at him; his gaze off in the distance, Gia was darting little indecisive glances Jimmy's direction, and Kelsey –much like Roman– stared intently at Jimmy.

"We're going to let you train us," Roman said.

"What?" Jimmy stammered, "But I thought yesterday…?"

"We want to see what you have to show us," Gia spoke up, Roman tilted his chin down slightly, letting her take over a moment but keeping his copper eyes locked on Jimmy, as if searching his features for something, "If you've actually got anything worth teaching, we'll stick around. Otherwise…we won't."

"You got today," Roman declared.

Jimmy lowered his eyes, darted a glare off to the side and tensed his shoulders. He knew he should feel a sense of elation, Weaver had trusted him with the great responsibility of training the four and he hadn't looked forward to having to confess to the Captain that the four had decided they didn't want him to train them. However, Jimmy didn't like the tone of their voices, their condescension. He knew he wasn't the ideal teacher, but he would still be their teacher, and they needed to respect him as such.

"Who says the offer still stands?" Jimmy grit out through a clenched jaw.

Roman chuckled lightly, a smile curling across his stone-cold features. It almost made him look approachable, almost. Jimmy didn't like the reaction; it fluttered in his chest, knocking him somewhat off balance.

"You really think we're going to believe you've changed your mind since yesterday?" he questioned jeeringly, "I gotta admit, I'm a little surprised you haven't come begging us to change our minds and let you train us yet."

Jimmy shook his head, flustered, turning a hard, heated glare on the ground.

"Really?" he scoffed, "What makes you seriously think I would ever beg you for anything?"

"Because of your razorback," Roman answered plainly.

The slur jolted something electric through Jimmy's veins. He bristled, bit his inner cheek until the blood poured out, and waited for Roman to clarify, which the older boy did, but only after he seemed to have a moment of relishing in Jimmy's visible reaction.

"Weaver told you why he wants us trained, right? Bullshit obvious reason aside."

Jimmy nodded stiffly. The captain wanted more fighters, yes, but he'd also mentioned the hope that one or all of the four would display abilities that put them on par with Ben, which would allow them to be his backup or partners on the battlefield. Essentially, Jimmy noted glumly, he was training his replacements.

"Now…unless we saw wrong, you care about that razorback," Roman surmised easily.

"By the way: that compass exchange, 'I can't be there with you, so take this token of my heart', very touching. Let me guess, you were fresh out of handkerchiefs?" Douglas injected, his mocking tone cutting harsh through Jimmy's humility. Jimmy flinched, color flooding his cheeks, his hands balled into trembling fists, but he remained stoically silent.

"It probably rips you apart inside seeing him ride off into battle, all alone, no one able to stand at his side and watch out for him," Roman continued, unabated by his friend's interruption, "You are going to train us. You want to train us. Because you want us to go out there with him so that we can watch his back. Make his life a little less dangerous."

"That's only if you can keep up with him," Jimmy weakly muttered, his stomach flip-flopping every which direction. He thought to mention that he didn't actually want them out there with Ben, that he really wanted them to be able to take some of the more difficult missions off Ben's shoulders so that he could be out there with Ben, but decided against it. For whatever reason, he wanted those four teenagers to know as little about the true extent of how much he cared about Ben as possible. Of course, he also knew how stupid it would sound, as if Weaver would ever keep him on as Ben's partner in battle when better options were available.

"Oh I can keep up with him," Roman assured the younger boy, with an arrogant smile.

Jimmy locked eyes with the older boy, his heart thundering in his ears as he attempted to draw air into his lungs against the constriction in his chest. Was Roman really saying what Jimmy thought he was saying?

"Rome," Kelsey whispered warningly, placing a light hand on his arm, but Roman shrugged her off. Douglas shifted uncomfortably, shaking his head at the ground. Gia folded her arms over her stomach, took a subconscious step back.

"Wait…does that mean that…?" Jimmy carefully prompted, uncertain how to go about subtly asking: _are you all super powered half-aliens_?

Roman dropped his eyes to the ground a moment, as though considering the unasked question, then he peered up at Jimmy and smartly replied, "What do you think it means?"

Jimmy examined the four, their postures, and their sudden disinterest in meeting his eye. He wasn't sure how to quite read any of them yet but his gut was telling him they were definitely hiding something. Whether it was something Weaver could use, Jimmy didn't know, and he wasn't entirely sure how to go about finding out. He had a pretty good hunch where to start though.

"Fine. You're right. I've got reasons for wanting to train you," Jimmy said, fixing his gaze on Roman, his voice wavering ever so slightly, as he challenged, "But that doesn't mean you're the one calling shots."

"Never said I was," Roman grumbled.

"You sure as hell act like it," Jimmy muttered, then grimaced and took a step back, shaking his head as he told them, "You need this as much I do. You want to be out there fighting this war, but no one will teach you how to shoot a gun, let alone give you one to shoot. I'm not going to play your one day game. I'm giving you this choice. Either we help each other out, or you walk away."

"You're giving me a choice?" Roman challenged, perking a brow.

"Yes. I am," Jimmy replied steadily. He locked his gaze with the other boy and sneered, "Got a problem with it? Then walk away and spend the rest of the war as civilians."

Momentarily, the four exchanged looks, and for a few quiet seconds, it felt as though they were having a silent discussion about the offer. It made Jimmy feel a bit out of place.

"Alright, brat," Roman murmured, his cold eyes jerked back toward Jimmy, trailing over the younger boy's form almost appraisingly, before jumping up to meet shimmering blue. He smirked and decided, "We'll play it your way."

Jimmy nodded; again wondering where was his elation. Instead, he felt as though he'd just signed a deal with the devil, and one handsome bastard of a devil at that.

"So then, brat, should we get started or what?" Roman inquired, folding his arms over his chest and leering down his nose at Jimmy.

"I…uh…well…um…we should us…what?" Jimmy stammered, suddenly losing the strength that had fortified his counter-ultimatum moments before, and shrinking back into the self-conscious, scrawny little punk teenager that never should have been given such an important assignment.

"Great. He's going to teach us to be fighters?" Douglas griped, wistfully noting, "I hope we don't start with grenades. They might go off in our hands before he can say 'throw'."

Gia covered a smile at the jab, giving Douglas an exasperated look. Jimmy shook his head and rolled his eyes, his cheeks a little pink tinged – just from the cold, of course. These bastards were not getting to him.

"So then…I'm training you," he stated, just for clarification purposes.

"Give the little boy a gold star," Gia teased.

"You're the only one that'll teach us," Roman confirmed, "We're the only ones that can keep your razorback safe. This means, I guess, we've got ourselves a deal then."

"Okay," Jimmy mumbled, then tentatively nibbling his inner cheek, added, "One more thing though…if we're going to go through with this."

"What's that?" Roman wondered, smiling bemusedly.

"His name is Ben," Jimmy said flatly.

"No one said it wasn't," Roman returned.

"You're going to start calling him by his name," Jimmy seethed, "Or our deal is off."

"Razorback Ben, got it," Roman smirked, and Jimmy had to take a deep breath to cool his head, "Anything else, brat?"

"You're just going to keep calling me 'brat', aren't you?" Jimmy pressed.

"Yeah," Roman said, "You got a problem with that…brat?"

"Whatever," Jimmy muttered, pushing away from the wall and meandering towards the community center. After several paces, he paused, turned round to look expectantly at the four teenagers watching his retreat blankly, "Well? Are you guys coming or not?"

Begrudgingly, the group fell in step behind Jimmy as he led the way into the community center. He noticed that they were careful to keep their distance, a reminder that they hadn't yet accepted him. He scowled, that was fine. He hadn't accepted them yet either, and they had one hell of a long way to go before he would accept them walking with Ben.

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A/N: Yay, so the 'Razorback Crew' (again, thank you IcicleLilly), are finally deciding to play ball. Their group needs a lot of fleshing out before their actions in these first scenes start to make any sense, but I will semi-address their usage of the 'razorback' slur towards Ben, because it's a bit confusing and won't make much sense until we see Ben and Rick interacting. Amongst the unharnessed, there is a kind of implied... hierarchy. They don't call him a 'razorback' for exactly the same reasons as others in camp, if anything, it's just to differentiate themselves from him. It'll become more evident as the story moves on, because you'll see, they don't call him 'razorback' to his face.

Just a little unimportant tidbit...

Right, let me know what you think please.

Reviewers: Facepalmer123, lol, see, and that's why I'm okay with being hated! :D. IcicleLilly, dang it, I kind of hoped no one would notice the Hal convo was the weakest point in the chapter...it was a good catch tho...sigh. Yeah, I'm kind of slow-playing the drama in the story a lot, because so much is about to start happening and I gotta build it all up. Sorry it's all going so slow, peeps. JDMlvr1, as you can see, he kind of did...thank you! CheckYourMetrics, so when I got your reviews for First Patrol, I was kind of stoked, because I thought I was the only one that cried during that story and, I mean, I biased, I wrote the damn thing, so my tears didn't exactly count. So, yeah, thank you for the reviews on that story, made me feel a little less alone in the world. Yes, stop procrastinating, there can never be enough Fanfiction in the world! I'm teasing, of course. Glad you found my story! Cookie97, I totally agree with your frustration. Of course, Ben is kind of more worried about his inability to not touch Jimmy and not the other way around...so...yeah...anyhow...

The scene from last chapter won't have any readily apparent affects on the boy's relationship until later. I'm sort of...taking what I built last story, and chipping away at it, creating these little cracks so that...yeah...we're testing the foundation of their love, so to speak.

Anyhow, got to go eat my breakfast, run to class. Man, it's starting to get cold outside. I think we might hit 60's today, its windy out. I realize some of you are probably covered in snow right now, so I will remind, I live in the desert. This is **COLD** to me. See you all Sunday!


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Oi, I overslept a lot. I've got two days off this weekend, hurrah! Oh, and Happy Veterans' Day, everybody. Go thank a soldier.

Also, I lied. Because I'm a terrible person. This isn't the ridiculously long chapter, chapter 13 is, it's almost 7K words. SORRY!

Thank you to the reviewers, you are all so incredibly amazing.

And a thank you to Greg for his mad beta-ing abilities. He likes chapter 13 a lot, so yeah...look forward to it.

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XII.

After their scuffle in the community center, Ben had expected Hal to be distant. So it was a little disconcerting the way his older brother hovered at his shoulder, following him around as though attached by a leash. On their bikes it wasn't noticeable, but as soon as they took up their 'stake-out' positions on the top of a several storied building, it became painstakingly obvious that Hal wasn't going to leave Ben alone for five seconds that trip.

After an hour and a half taking turns with Hal making notes on the enemy movements in a wide-ruled composite notebook, while Dai sketched a detailed map of the area, and Pope practiced hocking loogies off the rooftop while keeping an eye on their surroundings for any enemies that may notice their presence, Ben stood and started for the roof access. Hal immediately rose to follow.

"What?" Ben snapped, reeling round to face his brother with fire licking through his veins.

"Where are you going?" Hal demanded.

"To pee; and I would really prefer to do it alone," Ben explained haughtily. He could see Pope sniggering, standing on the edge of the roof several yards away. Dai remained attentive to his sketching, though a small smirk curled in the corner of his lip.

Hal flustered, embarrassed at the outburst, and muttered, "Fine. Just…don't take too long."

"Are you going to time me?" Ben returned, spinning around once more and stalking towards that blessed door that opened to the stairs and to a haven from his older brother's 'mother hen' act.

On the base level, Ben stole a peek up the stairwell he'd just sprinted down with unburdened ease, listening for the possibility of his brother spying on him at the top. Nothing. Hal had, hopefully, returned to his recordings. Ben smirked and shook his head, too easy. He checked his wrist watch, set its timer for two and half minutes then swiftly exited the building.

Out on the streets of that ruined city overrun with six-legged beasts, Ben unsheathed his knife and closed his eyes, listening to the sounds around him. He narrowed his focus to a two mile radius from where he stood, ticked off the number of Skitters in his head. Fourteen…fifteen…no wait, seventeen. He took a deep breath and invited the kick of adrenaline into his system. His heart quickened its pace in his chest for just one second, and then steadied itself at a near sub-human rate.

Everything: sights, smells, sound bombarded Ben at once. He could taste and identify every molecule in the air, he could feel them, pushing against him, flowing around him. He let it all seep in, it overwhelmed his senses at first, and then he eased it under control, counting his heartbeats. Then he took off, aiming for the Skitters farthest away from the alien structure. His kill the day before may not have been noticed, shrugged off by the enemy as unremarkable, but if Skitters started dropping dead all over the place, it would undoubtedly alert the enemy to Captain Weaver's planned attack on their odd translucent mass.

Ben found his first kill several yards away, picking through the debris of a half-destroyed convenience store. He snuck up on the unassuming creature, sliding his blade into the base of its neck before it knew there was any danger upon it. For Ben, there was a strange satisfaction in the way its scaly body collapsed on the ground, gagging on blackened blood.

The second kill was just outside the back of the convenience store. He stepped through the backdoor and arched his arm out, stabbing it through the throat as it rushed him from the side. He ripped out the blade sideways and leapt out of the way of the offal that spewed from its gaping throat wound. It convulsed violently, slumped against the back wall of the building, and sunk to the ground. Its death rippled ecstasy through Ben, pumping more adrenaline into his bloodstream, and amped his hyper-senses to a new height.

Down the street, climbing over an uprooted and scorched maple tree, Ben met his third kill. It put up a fight, knocking him back against a red brick building and pinning him down on the cracked sidewalk. He sliced and stabbed his blade expertly into the most vulnerable spots of the Skitter as it screeched and wailed on him. His timer went off and he growled frustrated, punching the Skitter full-force in the face then dragging it down as he lunged upwards with his knife. He kicked its dying body off of himself, catching his breath then rolling onto his feet.

Ben turned the timer off on his watch and began inspecting his body for visible clues of his recent deeds. His back felt sore, probably bruising from his impact with the brick wall, but beneath his shirt, they wouldn't be seen, so it didn't matter. His clothes were dusty though and slightly rumpled from his skirmish with his last kill. He absently slapped at his body in attempt to somewhat clean his garments.

Ben used the dead Skitter at his feet to wipe the blood from his blade best he could and frowned at the red droplet that landed on the top of his hand as he did so. He sheathed the blade and ran his fingertips tentatively along his face, wincing when he found the injury, it stung at the touch and felt dampened with blood. He drew back his hand to find his fingers stained crimson and scowled. This, unlike the bruises on his back, would be seen.

Stumbling back the direction of his unit's stake-out, Ben searched the area for a means of cleaning his head wound. He knew if he didn't return soon, that Hal would go looking for him, and it wouldn't take the older brother long to figure out Ben hadn't just gone 'to pee'. That was when the strange ringing from the last time they were in the area erupted in Ben's ears and he winced, falling to his knee and gripping his skull between his hands. It felt like his brain was being cut open with a knife.

A white light exploded across his vision.

On a rooftop a couple blocks away, Dai straightened considerably in his crouched position, leaning forward and lifting his binoculars to his eyes. Hal paused in his jotting down of Skitter formations they had so far noticed. Pope stood on the other side of the building, perched on the short wall that lined the roof, and glaring out into the distant surroundings, scouring for alien evils.

"What's wrong?" Hal questioned.

Dai didn't respond at first, shifting slightly to get more comfortable and adjusting his scope length for a farther range, "They're converging around the structure."

"The Skitters?" Hal pressed.

Dai held his lips in a tight frown and watched the events unfolding a moment, then nodded shortly. Abruptly, he lowered the binoculars and stood.

"We're leaving," he announced, "Pope, are we still clear on the backside?"

"Whoa, wait," Hal protested, "Leaving? What are you talking about? We're supposed to be doing surveillance on that thing and you want to leave as soon as there's actually something of interest to survey."

Dai remained stoic as ever, retrieving his rifle and leading the way to the stairwell access. Hal sighed; falling in line behind the older man, and Pope shouldered his own rifle, hopped from his perch and followed the other two.

On the stairs leading down, Hal paused, leaning over the railing to peer down and then questioned, "Where's Ben?"

Dai and Pope exchanged a look and looked over the railing as well, straining their ears for any sounds that might reveal their missing party member's whereabouts.

"Ben?" Hal called out. No answer came and that silence beat into Hal's chest, the sharpened spike of dread. He rushed down the stairwell past Dai, and the other two fell in line behind him, as he hissed out frantically, "Ben!"

"Mister Mason…Mister Mason…Benjamin Mason!"

"What?" Ben stammered, blinking away the white, color and shapes taking form before his eyes.

All the students in the classroom adjusted themselves in their desks to stare back at their startled fellow. Ben gaped around the room, his heart pounding erratic in his chest; Mrs. Hargreaves glared at him from the front of the room, her perfectly maintained eyebrow arched audaciously high in the air, her neatly French-manicured fingers strumming noisily on the top of her podium.

"I'm sorry, Mister Mason, did I interrupt your sleep?" Mrs. Hargreaves droned sarcastically, a malicious sneer on her lip, the she barked out command, "Please answer question fourteen."

Ben dropped his eyes to the desk in front of him, studying the textbook open and sprawled out atop it. Algebraic equations littered its pages, swirling together, this black and red, and white mass of numbers and lines and variables. His brain hammered him with thoughts, muddled and confused.

"This isn't where I was…" he murmured, roving his eyes around the room. Beside him, Marty sent questioning looks and in front of her, Lindsey grinned viciously.

"Well, I am terribly sorry to hear that, Mister Mason, but we are on fourteen if you would care to join us?" Mrs. Hargreaves replied sternly and Ben flinched, clearing his throat and straightening up in his chair.

"Uh…yeah…sure. Sorry…um…fourteen…" Ben repeated, flipping through the pages and through his notes on his desk, scanning them for the aforementioned problem. He shook his head, unable to make sense of the chaotic scribbles, "Uh…which…page are we on?"

"Mister Mason, if you had something else better to do then please don't let us interrupt, go right back to daydreaming," Mrs. Hargreaves bit out harshly and Ben winced, shrugging apologetically.

"I swear, Mrs. Hargreaves, I don't know what…I just feel…" Ben stammered, wracking his brain for an excuse or explanation. He darted his eyes around the room, still trying to get his head on straight.

"Mister Mason, I'll see you after class. Miss Brinkledge, would you care to give us an answer to question fourteen?" Mrs. Hargreaves said.

"Sure thing, Mrs. Hargreaves," Lindsey cheerfully chirped from her seat, shooting Ben a quick condescending sneer, "The answer is…"

Ben slumped in his desk, rolling his eyes and rubbing the back of his neck roughly. Being in math class seemed logical at that moment, it was fourth period, after all. So why did he feel so lost and out-of-sorts. His stomach was grumbling the way it always did right before lunch break, and he could somewhat recall that he'd smoked Lindsey in the 'Great Speeches' pop quiz in history class that morning. He lifted his eyes, scanned the room solemnly, and caught sight of a few students walking past the door, a flash of blue, and his heart slammed in his throat.

Before he realized what he was doing, Ben was on his feet moving towards the door, every student in the room was now looking at him, Lindsey faltering in her explanation of how she solved number fourteen's equation. Mrs. Hargreaves narrowed her eyes to dangerous slits, making a low, disapproving gurgling noise in the back of her throat.

"Mister Mason, is there something that you need?" the teacher hissed.

"That boy…" Ben spluttered, continuing in his slow, uncertain meander towards the door, "I was looking for him…before…I don't know…" His brow furrowed and he shook his head, a sudden throbbing headache

"Spacin' is at it again," one of the boys in the front row sniggered and the class erupted into laughter.

"That's enough, everyone. Mister Mason, please sit down," Mrs. Hargreaves screeched.

Ben hesitated a moment at his teacher's command, his hand resting uncertain on the doorknob. At his back, his classmates spoke in low murmurs, still watching him amused if not slightly flummoxed by his actions. He tried to peer down the hallway the direction the boy had wandered but he couldn't get a good look.

Mrs. Hargreaves continued to issue him instruction, her voice growing shriller with every word, but he wasn't listening. He turned the knob and pushed the door open and was swallowed by the white of the hallway, until all he could see in every which direction was that pristine nothingness stretching to forever.

"Well, half-pint, are you going to let us in or not?"

Two boys stood on the doorstep, their varsity lettermen jackets fit snug around their bulky forms. Cole and Nathan, they were on the lacrosse team with Hal. Ben stared blankly out the house at them. It was the middle of Saturday; he could hear the cartoons playing in the background, Matt laughing at the screen. His cheeks flushed with heat as he realized he was still wearing his pajamas – sweatpants and an old t-shirt. Suddenly conscious of his bare feet, he curled his toes under in a pathetic attempt to hide them.

"Yeah…okay, sure," he murmured, stepping back and allowing the two older boys entry.

They strutted in as though they owned the place, Cole ruffling Ben's hair in passing, and causing Ben to fluster. He made a face, attempting to reorganize his mussed locks, though not much could be done about his hurt pride. He hated when Hal's friends treated him like a child, as though they were so much older than him. He hurried retreat into the living room, Cole and Nathan trailing after, and plopped on the couch, scooping up the book he'd left held open by the armrest and burying his face in its pages. The older boys sat on the couch beside him, started watching the cartoons with Matt.

"Hal should be back soon," Ben mumbled, not that anyone was listening.

Ben settled back into his book but frowned. He couldn't make any sense of the passages, the words didn't appear to be in English, they didn't appear to be any written language he knew, but somehow he could read it, not that he understood the words. He flipped to the cover but didn't recognize the title.

"What're you reading?" Nathan asked. Ben startled, both of the older boys peering at him curiously. He showed them the book front and they both made noises of acknowledgment, "Man, you like some difficult books."

"That's because he's such a smart kid," Cole teased and Ben scowled, glaring at the pages. He made another attempt to read but the words were not becoming any clearer.

"This isn't right," Ben muttered.

A dot of red splattered across the crisp white page and black text. Ben furrowed his brow and smeared the crimson color with his fingertip. Another drop fell to the page. He touched his hand to his temple, pulled it back coated in blood. He put the book aside. None of this was right. He rose to his feet; he needed to get out of there.

"Hey, you okay, kid?"

"This isn't right," Ben insisted. He started away from the couch. Then Hal entered, followed by the lithe blonde with soft gray eyes.

"Hey, Hal, what took you so long?" the boys greeted, on their feet but Ben's eyes locked on the girl.

"Who are you?" he demanded, accusingly, "What are you doing to me?"

"Jeez, Ben, what the hell is your problem?" Hal seethed.

"I…I don't know," Ben faltered, "I don't know…I wasn't here before…something…"

The world faded into bleak white, then became a field of extraterrestrial flowers. Only Ben and the girl remained; her in that cotton dress and he once more lost and confused.

"I…I think I…I was looking for…" Ben stammered, turning every which direction, but the field stretched into forever. He furrowed his brow and grabbed hold of the girl non-too-gently by the shoulders, "Who the hell are you? Why are you doing this to me?"

She cocked her head to one side and replied, "Why are you doing this to yourself?"

Ben blinked rapidly, taking in his ruined surroundings as he gasped for air and released the vise grip he had on his own throbbing head. The searing pain beneath his skull slowly faded, and he was able to stand. His heart slammed hard against the front of his chest, he fumbled for his blade.

A Skitter stood in the distance. It stared dead straight at Ben. He waited for the creature to advance, held himself tense in a fighter's stance. Several heartbeats drummed by, the two locked in an immortal battle of wills, and then, as though merely taking a stroll in the park, the Skitter turned and left.

Ben scrunched his features, loosening his stance and lowering his knife. He couldn't fathom why it hadn't attacked, he tried to sense if there'd been malice in it, standing and staring at him, but he couldn't recall. He strained to listen for sounds of an ambush, but there were no other enemies in the area.

When the Skitter was far enough away that Ben felt certain it wouldn't return to attack, he re-sheathed his knife and checked his watch. He felt a strange sort of vertigo looking at the digital readout on his wrist. He'd been gone for over seven minutes, Hal was going to be pissed, and the last thing he needed was another falling out with his older brother, especially in front of Pope.

The building where Ben's unit had been staked out was only a short jog away, but when he reached it, the three men he'd left there were gone. He closed his eyes, focused a moment on the bustle of noise all around him and got a bearing on their location. They were several yards away, sneaking through the area. He could hear Hal hissing his name.

Ben rolled his eyes, his elder brother never trusted in his ability to take care of himself. He slipped through an alleyway and snuck up on the group, clearing his throat to gain their attentions. They spun round, guns poised at the ready, and he held his hands up, perked a brow at them. Dai and Hal quickly lowered their weapons, but Pope was reluctant to shoulder his own rifle.

Hal strode toward Ben and cuffed him behind the ear.

"Dammit Hal," Ben groaned, bristling and glaring up at the older boy.

"What the hell, Ben? Where did you take off to?" Hal demanded, in a harsh whisper, "You said you were just going to take a piss, instead-"

"I heard a Skitter nearby," Ben hastily lied, "I thought it might discover our location and report back, so I went to take care of it. I can show you its dead body if you want?"

"Yeah, let's see it," Hal challenged, and Ben nearly choked on a sudden lump in his throat. He hadn't expected his brother to call that bluff. All the Skitters he dropped were too far away to justify his leaving the stake-out point to slay them.

"No. We don't have time," Dai interrupted, "We need to get out of here."

Ben hid his relieved smirk, thinking 'thank god for Dai', before the young man's words registered. His brow wrinkled and he darted a look up at the unit leader, then glanced between the other two men.

"What's going on? Why are we in such a hurry…? We aren't due back at camp for another four hours," Ben questioned.

Dai led the way back to the bikes, as Hal explained the situation, Pope lingering behind – maybe to watch their backs, most likely so he didn't have to walk too close with the others and could abandon them in a heartbeat if the scenario called for it.

"Skitters started acting strange while you were gone," Hal was saying, his anger towards Ben still evident in his tone, "And then the structure started…" He trailed off, "Dai thought it best we get out of here. He thinks we need to drop the mission and focus on relocating the 2nd Mass."

"What?" Ben gaped, "We can't drop this mission!"

"I didn't realize you were so invested in it," Hal remarked, looking startled at the outcry.

"I'm not, I just…" Ben shook his head and fixed his glare forward, "We've put so much time and energy in it and I think this could be an important strike against the enemy."

"Almost sounds like you know something we don't," Pope commented, in his usual rough brogue.

Hal and Ben glanced warily back at the older man, mirror expressions of uncertainty and mild fear. Pope appeared skeptical, he wasn't looking at the brothers, his demeanor gave nothing away, he walked with a swagger and his lip curled upward in its natural sneer, but there was a hard line to his features. Something written in them that betrayed a darker intention. Hal turned back to Ben, his own expression inquisitive, and Ben shook his head, vehemently denying the former-criminal's assertion.

"We'll talk about it later," Hal muttered under his breath and Ben rolled his eyes but remained silent. There was nothing to talk about later.

As they mounted their bikes and kicked off towards home, Ben let his mind wander back to his blackout. He couldn't remember the details, but he knew there had been some sort of reverie like a dream, a few bits and pieces of which still lingered before his eyes. The girl in white, her soft voice susurrating in his ears though he couldn't hear what she was saying, her words long faded from memory.

It didn't seem a coincidence that strange happenings began around that alien structure at the same moment Ben lost a chunk of time, and he did not like it, not at all. That thing needed to be destroyed, whether the 2nd Mass was willing to do it, or he was forced to do it himself.

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A/N: Another chapter about the alien structure...and another 'alien daydream'...hm...and another brotherly...uh...fighting moment.

Right. Anyhow. Let me know what you guys think (translation: review please!).

Otherwise, see you Thursday!

Reviewers: Greg, eternal love, hm? We'll see about that...bwahahahaha! And, also, always glad to turn someone into a sappy romantic. 'Tis what I'm here for :D. JDMlvr1, sweet, that works! Haley, glad to have you back. Oh, it sucks being busy, but I guess I can relate. SassySavannah190, those four certainly don't make things easier on our boys, that's for certain. I'm looking forward to intro-ing Rick, I liked his character quite a bit too, so he may have a fairly important role in this story. As for Roman, the 'leader' of the razorbacks...yeah...he's something. Facepalmer123, really? Because I thought the compass scene should've done it. Oh well, sorry to let you down. I'm sure this chapter didn't help much either...apologies. DancerIntheDark101, s'okay, welcome back. Glad you liked the last few chapters, you have said it before, but I don't mind hearing it. I hope you have the time to stop in this chapter! IcicleLilly, I know what you mean about the boys being frustrating. They drive me up the wall, and I'm writing it...well, that is kind of why...I swear, lately all they've been doing is fighting...when their not supposed to be fighting! It's making the chapters difficult to write, because I got to rewrite, because I'm like, dude, Jimmy, stop being a prick...no, no, bad Ben, that is not how you win friends and lovers! See what I got to put up with? Cookie97, aw, I'm glad you liked it so much! And I like your take on Jimmy's motives, because he's not feeling so great about them...

Okie dokie. I got to go eat breakfast, shower, write an essay on linguistic diversity in the Aleutian islands, and then pump out chapters of Fire Light. Also, I should probably do laundry...I wore my green, weekend only pants to work yesterday, never a good sign. Later people!


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: Right, _here's_ the long chapter. :) Hopefully, it will tide you over until Sunday...

Thank you to the reviewers, you guys are the only reason I keep writing this thing. And, also, because I'd like to finish it for Ben and Jimmy and then start working on my other fanfic...

Big thanks to Greg for beta-ing around his insanely busy schedule. Forgot to share this link with you guys last chapter, but this is Greg's independent movie project thing facebook page, you guys should all check it out (paste to your browse bar and remove spaces) and hit the "Like" button:

www . facebook . com \ TheRoadLessTraveledIndepende nt

Otherwise, read.

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XIII.

It takes several rounds from an AK-47 to drop a Skitter, barring a clean head shot of course, but the 2nd Mass also packs magazine clips that carry thirty, forty, and if you're real lucky, seventy-five rounds a pop. Those get doled out according to which fighters Dai likes the most.

To field strip an AK-47, one must first start by detaching the magazine and clearing the chamber of any rounds. Next, remove the receiver cover, press the button in the back until there's a popping noise and slide that piece off, set it aside. Inside is the recoil spring assembly, remove it by…

Jimmy fumbled with the rifle in his hands, working at pushing the back piece of the rifle in order to clear the tracks so he could pull out the spring coil, but he was having difficulties; his fingers kept slipping, and his arms felt weak, like jelly, he didn't have the strength to do it. He chewed his inner cheek, his heart jackhammering away in his chest, as he cursed mentally and wondered fervently why those four teenagers felt the need to stare so intently at him like that.

Okay, maybe they weren't all staring so intently. Douglas was leaned back in his chair, balancing on two legs, gawking at the ceiling, and Gia was examining her nails. Kelsey couldn't keep her eyes on one thing; they flittered all around the room anxiously. Really, it was just Roman whose eyes were locked on the stuttering, fumbling young boy at the front of the room, but he was certainly enough to make Jimmy want to put the gun quietly down and simply leave.

Finally, the coil flung upward and Jimmy flinched back in surprise, Douglas snorting at the display. Jimmy pulled it out and set it next to the receiver cover on the table top in front of him. He paused to shoot a pointed glare at Douglas a moment before continuing.

"…once you have the coil out," Jimmy mumbled instruction, "You have to get out the bolt carrier…so to do that…"

Jimmy lifted the gun up and looped his fingers round the handle of the bolt carrier, trying to get a proper hold on it and struggling to tug it loose. Douglas slammed his chair onto four legs again and Jimmy startled.

"Why do we need to know this?" Douglas asked his tone lazy. He had his arms folded across his stomach, his mouth hung open, the tip of his tongue pressed behind his top front teeth.

Jimmy crinkled his brow and raised his eyes to meet Douglas's own.

"What?" Jimmy returned blankly, his hand pausing in its feeble attempts to remove the bolt carrier.

"We've been sitting here listening to you for almost an hour," Douglas said haggardly, "You've been talking ad nauseam about the history of this gun, and the different parts of it, and now you're showing us how to take the gun apart and, I was just wondering, why the fuck do we need to know all of this?"

"Dougie," Gia hissed warning and Douglas winced, smirking lopsided at the girl.

"Sorry, Gee," he replied with a shrug, "But this kid is really starting to grate my nerves. I'm still waiting for him to speak a full sentence, he can't complete a thought and every other word is unintelligible or a monosyllabic grunt; I'm seriously starting to think that he isn't capable of big people speak."

"I'm telling you all of this because…because…it's important," Jimmy haughtily explained, "I'm not just going to hand you a gun, man, you have to know these things."

"Why?" Douglas retorted.

Jimmy opened his mouth, and then clacked it closed once more. He fidgeted with the rifle a moment, running a finger over the exposed bolt carrier and fingering the trigger. He tried to remember the reasons Dai gave him when he was learning all about that particular assault rifle, but he had never actually asked the question and Dai rarely offered up information when actually prompted, almost never when not.

"You wasting our time, brat?" Roman inquired sharply.

Jimmy sighed, shook his head. He put the gun down and shoved his hands in to his pockets.

"This is how I'm going to teach," he whispered response, "Maybe it's not what you expected, but if it was what you expected, then you wouldn't need me to teach you, you would already know how to do it."

"If you can't even tell us why we need to know all of this, then how are we supposed to believe you when you say we need to know all of this?" Douglas pointed out, "All I want to know is how to shoot the damn thing – sorry, Gee – and I fail to see the relevance of when and where a gun was manufactured to using it to put a bullet through a target."

"Well…I…" Jimmy trailed off and glared at a scuff mark on the floor, grumbling, "Maybe we should take a break."

"More time wasting?" Roman seethed.

"No, I just…" Jimmy chewed his inner cheek and balled his hands into tight fists, "I need a break is all. We'll meet again in…like…I don't know, ten minutes?"

The four teenagers shuffled from the room grumbling and complaining loudly to one another, and the door fell heavily shut after their departure. Jimmy began putting the pieces back together on the rifle, drawing in a deep breath and letting it out slow. Fully assembled, he set the gun down on the table and ran his hands over his face, slumping to the ground and burying his face in his knees. This was a fucking disaster; he had no clue what he was supposed to be doing.

Jimmy took a few more deep breaths to calm his tumultuous mind, and then climbed to his feet once more. He figured he would take a walk; maybe he could find Anthony and ask why it was important to know the history of a gun. He was sure there was a good reason for it, he just couldn't think of one. On his way out of the center, he ran into a different and much better sight for sore eyes.

"Maggie," Jimmy all-but-cried out, fighting the sudden uncharacteristic urge to throw his arms round the young woman and squeeze all the air from her lungs.

Maggie had been gone for the past two days on her assignment with the nine other fighters, searching out a new location for the 2nd Mass. Though Jimmy hadn't really wanted to admit it to himself, and would certainly never say it aloud, he'd missed her a great deal, and seeing her right then shot through him a whole stream of jittery feel-good emotions that he instantly and vehemently pushed away. Instead of hugging her, he put his hands in his pockets and nibbled his gum wall. She smiled, absently reaching out and brushing his hair from his face, causing a shiver to race up his spine. She'd recently started doing things like that – grooming him in a way, her touch almost exactly like his mother's, if not a little warmer, a little more gentle, and while he wanted to believe he hated it, he never said anything to stop her.

"Hi, you. What's up?" Maggie replied. Jimmy sighed, shrugged and she laughed, "Talkative as ever, I see."

"When did you get back from scout?" Jimmy asked.

"Not long ago, maybe…fifteen minutes," Maggie answered, and smirked, "We're just reporting in, stocking up. We plan to head out again in a few hours."

"Oh," Jimmy muttered, slumping a bit and lowering his face. She nudged him with her shoulder and sought out his eyes, smiling broadly.

"Everything okay, soldier? You look like someone killed your dog," Maggie commented.

Jimmy gave her a withered look, then sighed and asked, "Can we talk?"

Maggie drew her brow together, studying the boy in front of her, and nodding unhesitatingly. They found a secluded area in the main gym of the community center to sit down and Jimmy filled Maggie in on the details of his new assignment. She nodded every now and then, but remained silent until he finished his explanations.

"…and I don't get what they want from me! I mean all the stuff I went over is important to know, right?" Jimmy concluded, folding his arms over his chest, "What should I do?"

Maggie blinked a few times, her brow raised slightly, then said, "Let me get this straight, you're teaching them to shoot a rifle. So…you started with the history of the gun…"

"Right."

"Then you went into the anatomy of a gun, including…technical terminology and a…breakdown of mechanics…"

"Yeah…"

"…and wrapped it all up with a field strip demonstration?"

"And they didn't care about any of it," Jimmy raged.

Maggie burst out laughing and Jimmy felt a pang of hurt at the bizarre outburst.

"I'm sorry, Jimmy, but I'm bored just hearing about it," Maggie gasped, "And I didn't have to listen to it for an hour."

"This is stupid; I don't know what I'm doing. Weaver never should've picked me for this assignment, I shouldn't be teaching anyone to be a fighter. I'm just going to tell him he needs to pick someone else," Jimmy griped, bolting to his feet and readying to storm off, but Maggie grabbed hold of him by the forearm.

"No, Jimmy, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, just sit down, okay," Maggie pleaded, gaining control of her mirth. Begrudgingly, Jimmy plopped back down in his seat and glared the opposite direction, unwilling to look at the young woman next to him, "You're a great fighter, and you know your stuff. You know more about the weapons in our inventory than people three times your age and you're one of the best shooters in the 2nd Mass. You are going to do a fantastic job teaching these kids, you just need to try a different approach."

"I don't know how else to do it," Jimmy complained.

Maggie furrowed her brow.

"Really? The only way you know how is to start with Russia?" she demanded, incredulous.

"Well, yeah…" Jimmy rubbed his arm absently and elucidated, "That's how Dai taught me."

"With…Russia?"

Jimmy nodded.

"And then the anatomy of the rifle?"

Jimmy shrugged nonchalant, "Yes. We went over the anatomy of a lot of different gun types. Rifle, shotgun, hand, submachine, machine, Gatling. He went over bullet caliber with me, difference between semi-automatics, automatic, bolt-action, you know all those. But I'm kind of strapped for time, I couldn't exactly go over all of that, I had to simplify."

Maggie gaped at Jimmy, "And, when Dai was droning on about all of that, you weren't bored out of your mind?"

"No," Jimmy murmured, fidgeting with his sleeves, "I thought it was great. We field stripped three different assault rifles and two hand guns and then we went over calculating bullet trajectory based on distance, velocity, wind speed and direction, and air-resistance."

Maggie blinked several times.

"Which you…understood?"

Jimmy winced, meekly responding, "Well…yeah…it's just a differential equation…I could never calculate it in my head, too many variables, it would take a super computer, but…I mean the theory behind it is pretty simple."

"I, honestly, do not know what to say," Maggie whispered. Jimmy felt grayness settle in the pit of his stomach and he scowled, tensing his shoulders, trembling slightly.

"Sorry…I just… it's weird, I know…I should know…it was stupid…"

"You're an amazing kid," Maggie commented. Jimmy faltered, peeking up at her, a blush crossing his cheeks. She gazed at him with a softened expression, endeared.

"Oh," he mouthed.

"No one's ever told you that," Maggie surmised and Jimmy said nothing. She placed a hand on his shoulder, causing him to look up, "Well, it's true. You are an amazing kid. You really want to know why Weaver chose you for this assignment?"

"I already know. It's because of Ben," Jimmy mumbled answer, "I'm the chosen ambassador to the unharnessed kids because in my spare time I make-out with one in storage closets."

"No," Maggie said, then paused, scrunched her features and fought to stifle the laughter struggling to burst out at Jimmy's comment. She shook her head and told the young boy through a toothy grin, "Maybe Ben is a small part of it, but Weaver wouldn't stick someone on an assignment like this if he didn't think they were the right person for the job. He doesn't want piss-poor fighters in his unit; he wants the best he can muster. He chose you because he knows you can train the best fighters. And you _can_, Jimmy, you just have to figure out how to get through to them."

"I don't know how," Jimmy grumbled, slumping forward with his elbows on his knees and glaring at the floor, "I could barely get them to agree to let me teach them anything in the first place and I've got this really bad feeling that I'm going to go back to that classroom in a couple minutes and none of them are going to come back."

"You just have to put yourself in their shoes for a moment, figure out how they think, try to understand what it is that they want from this mini-boot camp," Maggie suggested.

"That's the thing; I don't get how they think. None of them are anything like what I expected," Jimmy complained.

"What did you expect?" Maggie earnestly wondered. Jimmy shrugged.

"I don't know," he confessed, "I didn't expect them to hate me outright."

"They don't hate you," Maggie assured him and he scowled.

"They do," he insisted.

"They don't even know you," she reasoned.

"Apparently they do," Jimmy cried, "They seem to know more about me than I do about them. They knew my name, my battle history; they seem to know all the right things to say to get under my skin…I seriously think they've been spying on me."

"Well, I guess you have been the center of a lot of recent gossip lately," Maggie commented with a reproving cluck of her tongue, "But what about you is there to hate?"

"A lot of things, I guess," Jimmy muttered, "My young age, my short height, my relationship with just about everyone in the 2nd Mass, including...no, _especially_, Ben, my face, my scrawniness, the warehouse thing…"

"You saved the 2nd Mass in that warehouse," Maggie interjected, "How could they possibly hate you for that?"

Jimmy flinched and glared up at the young woman through his lashes and loose strands of hair. He didn't save the 2nd Mass; he _helped_ save the 2nd Mass. There was a big difference. Just because he almost died doing it but didn't, and he doesn't have alien spikes, didn't mean he did it single-handedly. There were other fighters out there that day that risked their lives, some that gave their lives, and the fact that everyone wanted to shower Jimmy with all the gratitude for a 'job well done' just because he pushed a fucking button was really starting to piss him off. In a way he kind of thought his four 'pupils' were justified in hating him for the warehouse thing, truth be told, he hated himself for it.

"They find new and inventive ways to hate me every day," Jimmy grumbled.

"Wait. Back up a minute. Why do they hate you because of Ben?" Maggie asked, wrinkling her nose, "I mean, I would think that _that_ at least…"

"I don't really understand it," Jimmy answered, with a shrug and a lost expression, "I guess they've got something against him. They keep insisting that they're nothing like him…" he wrinkled his nose and murmured, "They even call him…'razorback'."

Maggie perked a brow and made a soft noise of surprise.

"Have you asked Ben about it?" she wondered. Jimmy frowned and lowered his eyes, chewing his inner cheek again and fidgeting with his sleeves.

"We haven't really talked about any of this," he admitted, "I don't even think Ben knows I'm training the other unharnessed kids."

"Why haven't you told him?" Maggie asked.

"It's not like I'm hiding it from him, it just hasn't come up," Jimmy said, though his voice wavered somewhat, then he abruptly stood and announced, "I should probably go back now, find out if they bolted."

"Alright," Maggie agreed, "Hey, Jimmy, just teach them how to shoot, okay?"

"That's what I'm trying to do," Jimmy griped.

"No, you're trying to incite a mutiny," Maggie teased, and then almost apologetically explained, "Put a gun in their hands, show them a target, and tell them how to pull the trigger. The rest can come later."

Jimmy sighed haggardly, "Okay, whatever. I'll see you later."

Maggie called a salutation at Jimmy's retreating back and he waved a hand over his shoulder acknowledging it then headed back towards his designated classroom.

Outside the classroom door Jimmy took a deep breath, then pushed the door open and strode in. The four teenagers had returned, and he wasn't sure if that made him feel better or worse. They watched him with dark, indecipherable glowers, and he swallowed back his anxieties and took up position in the front of the room, lifting his rifle off the table.

"Okay," he murmured and glumly announced, "Let's go to the shooting range."

-0-0-

Weaver was listening to reports from the relocation scouts when the recon unit arrived, so Dai slipped in to hear the meeting and Hal and Ben waited outside. For the most part, Ben tried to keep a distance between himself and his brother, pacing the length of the hall as though restless, which wasn't entirely an act. Lately it had been getting harder and harder being at camp, like there was this itch inside of him growing increasingly incessant, and the only way to scratch it was to go out and kill Skitters.

"Just so you know, Dai is reporting your insubordination today," Hal said quietly and Ben paused in his anxious stride, glaring down the corridor to his older brother leaned back against the wall.

"That is so typical…" Ben growled.

"You know, you're so quick to think it's my fault. I actually asked him not to," Hal replied, scoffing and shaking his head, glaring at the floor, "Even if you don't want to believe it, I am on your side, Ben."

"Then stop treating me like some dumb kid," Ben shot back, "I can make my own choices, I can handle myself-"

"But that's exactly what I'm trying to get you to understand. You don't have to handle yourself," Hal interjected, "You're not alone."

"You don't understand-"

"You're not the only one dad left behind!"

Ben clamped his mouth shut hard, the clack of his teeth slamming together resounding in his mind. He sought out a blank spot on the ground to glare at as he heard Hal shuffle, repositioning himself. Between the both of their pounding heartbeats, Ben felt certain they could power a small steam engine.

"We never talk about dad," Ben noted solemnly.

"No. We don't," Hal confirmed.

Ben had found that sometimes, if he just stood there and let his focus drift, he could hear everything. Every sound made, loud or quiet, within roughly a one mile radius around himself reverberated in his ears and shuddered through his body, together this melodious white noise that disturbed him in the way it brought a strange clarity to his mind.

This is the world: every whisper of wind, every simper of plant life dancing in the breeze, every child's shrieked laughter, a young man crying in a bathroom stall because for one second – just that one second – he realized the world had ended and there was nothing he could do about it, a grizzled older woman bragging about wrestling a doe to the ground with her bare hands and slitting its throat – venison for dinner it seemed, every report of gunfire from carefully aimed practice shots at the range, every callous caw of a blackbird glaring ominously down at the camp from its perilous perch on a nearby tree limb. It coursed through every heartbeat, in every 2nd Mass individual, in every critter flying, billowing through the sky, in every insect or rodent rummaging through the earth. And in that riptide of sounds, beautiful chaotic orchestra, he wondered what it meant to be human, and if it really mattered anymore what he was when the world around him was itself so inhuman and incredible and _connected_ and in this alien form, with these alien ears, he could see its connection and could he really desire to be that detached human anymore, so separated from this world…his own world?

"Because it's my fault he's gone," Ben admitted, his voice quaking softly.

"It's _his own _fault he's gone," Hal silently corrected.

The words fluttered through Ben, an unknowing confirmation of his own worst dread. Their father climbed aboard a space craft in hopes that it would save Ben, and the very fact Hal saw that as a faulty action meant Hal believed Ben beyond salvation.

"Dad didn't know exactly what he was doing," Ben growled, "The alien manipulated him, and it used me to do it. If I hadn't been taken by the Skitters in the first fucking place than he never would've needed to climb on that spaceship."

"And if the Skitters never invaded in the first place, they never would've taken you, and we would still be at home fighting about who gets to use the bathroom first in the morning," Hal returned sharply, his eyes boring into Ben, though Ben refused to meet the steady gaze, "We can do this all day, Ben, you look for someone to blame and in the end all you have is a long list of names and nothing to do with it."

Ben flinched, hot tears springing to his eyes. Petulantly, he bit out, "Don't quote mom to me."

"I'm going to say this once," Hal seethed, "Because I really don't want to have to say it again. You have nothing to prove to anyone."

"I'm not trying-"

"Going out today by yourself like that, in the middle of an op, was reckless and stupid," Hal continued, "But worse is the way you happily volunteer yourself up for the most dangerous of missions, no questions asked."

"Don't start on me about that," Ben cried, "I already hear enough about it from Jimmy."

"Jimmy's right to give you shit about it, Ben. Weaver's intention might not be to come up with new ways to get you killed, but that doesn't mean you have to humor him every time he says, 'hey, Ben, stick your neck out here'," Hal roared, "You've already proven yourself to anyone who matters in this camp, and everyone else will fall in line."

"That's not why I'm doing it," Ben insisted.

"Then why the hell are you doing it? Because I cannot think of any other reason-"

"Because I'm the only one that can," Ben snapped, "I'm not normal anymore, remember? The Skitters turned me into this supercharged freak and I sure as hell intend to use it to our advantage. And regardless of whether you like it or not, that means I have to risk my life and do whatever it takes to keep the 2nd Mass safe."

Hal put his hands on his hips and shook his head, his face splotched white.

"Regardless of whether _you_ like it or not, you're still my little brother – supercharged freak or not, and you still have to follow orders. What you did today could have compromised this entire operation," Hal raged.

"What is the big deal?" Ben demanded, "I told you I heard a Skitter."

"Then you should have alerted us!"

"That doesn't even make sense. I could handle it myself," Ben snarled.

"You shouldn't have left without…" Hal griped.

"Give me one good reason why!"

"Because I thought they took you again!"

Ben fell back, spinning away from the words and walking a few steps down the hall, before pausing and folding his arms over his chest. Hal was quiet and after a few moments, Ben peeked over his shoulder at him. Hal had leaned against the wall once more; he was staring at the ceiling, his mouth screwed into a terse frown.

"So what if they had," Ben whispered, he stiffened, tightened his arms around himself, "They could take me. They could take you. They could take Matt. Anyone of us. All of us. You can be afraid of it all you want, run around pretending like you can protect us, prevent it, by being the world's most overprotective jackass, but I refuse to live in fear," he spun round to eye his brother fiercely and proclaimed, "Because then I might as well just surrender and go with them quietly. I have to fight this war, Hal, and I have to win it."

"_You_ have to win it? Just you?" Hal pressed.

"If that's what it takes," Ben decided, "If I'm the only one that can…if humanity needs a hero and I can be that hero, then fine, I'll do it…" He dropped his chin and glared at the ground, finishing silently: _even if I'm not human myself_.

"Ben…" Hal began in a low growl, but the office door opened and Dai appeared. He looked between the two brothers, standing apart from one another with a tension stretched the entire distance from one boy to the other, then he beckoned them into the room, and begrudgingly, they trailed inside.

Weaver was finishing up discussions with the scout leaders, Damien and Maggie. They glanced at the newcomers briefly, and continued their low conversation. From the sounds of things, the scouts had turned up zilch for ideal settings of a new base camp location and though they planned to push out again shortly, there didn't seem to be much hope they would turn up anything on their next outing either. When Ben and Hal approached, the conversation ended and the scout leaders nodded and murmured their acknowledgments to the brothers.

"Dai tells me he feels we should scrap our mission to destroy that alien structure," Weaver stated, cutting right to the chase, "I want to hear your boys' opinions. What're your thoughts on the matter?"

"It needs to be destroyed," Ben immediately spoke up, fervent and agitated, and Weaver perked a brow at that, Hal sending his younger brother a warning look, "Forgive me, sir, but Dai is making a rash decision based out of a fear of the unknown. We don't understand this thing, what it is, what the aliens are using it for, so he wants to run? That doesn't make any sense! We don't understand most of the aliens' tech, but that's why we gather intel, isn't it? I thought that was our mission out there, to figure out what we can about this thing, so that we can bring it down."

"You didn't see what this thing was doing, Ben, you don't know what you're talking about," Hal interrupted.

"And what's your take on this, Hal?" Weaver boomed question, halting the fiery argument just starting to light up on Ben's tongue.

"Dai is right. We need to pull off this mission and focus on relocating the group as far away from that thing as we can. We don't know what it is, we don't know what its purpose is, and most importantly, we don't know what it's capable of," Hal stated firmly, "If we had greater numbers, better armaments, more information, more time, then maybe we could muster an attack and have some slim chance at success, but facts are simple and clear, we don't."

"You're wrong," Ben cried, "We have plenty of time to get information and we don't need any more fighters. Captain, send me down in there; I can get in fast, get in close. I'll gather the intel we need, and, if need be, I'll destroy that thing on my own, you know I can."

"Ben," Hal growled warning.

"That is not an option I want to explore," Weaver cut in, "I'm sorry, Ben, but I think Dai and your brother might be right on this. We're going to pull back-"

"This is so stupid," Ben moaned, slamming one of the classroom desktops with his open palms, and startling some of the other fighters in the room, "I did not waste two days surveying that thing to turn back now! We need to hit the enemy, and we need to hit them hard, and this is the way to do it, and you know that."

"You may want to re-evaluate your tone, soldier," Weaver barked out, "Need I remind you who makes decisions about what is necessary for our people. I understand your frustration, Ben, I do. I want to hit them bugs with everything I got just as much as the next person, but I need to think about what's best for our group right now, what'll keep us alive, give us another day to fight, not about evening scores and settling vendettas."

Ben clenched his jaw, folding his arms over his chest and glaring at the classroom window, its blinds were tugged closed though light shone through the slits in slender lines across the tile floor. His heart pounded furious in his chest and adrenaline kicked through him, demanding he do something, anything, to expend the quickly building energy in his chest and overflowing through his limbs.

"You couldn't possibly understand my frustration," Ben grit out.

A hush pulsated through the room, all eyes suddenly on the captain.

"Everyone out. Ben, you stay," Weaver commanded.

"Captain…" Hal started protest, but he was quickly and evenly cut off.

"Your brother is a fighter, Hal, and as much as I know you want to protect him, he has to be responsible for his own actions if he's going to stand in this unit. Leave with the rest, you can wait outside," Weaver said, and begrudgingly, Hal followed orders, falling in line with the others as they all trudged out of the classroom.

Ben folded his arms over his chest and leered brazenly across the room at the captain. Weaver put his hands on his hips, tilted his head to one side, set his jaw and studied the young boy with a hard-lined expression that made more pronounced the grayness and wrinkles of his wizened countenance.

"Lecture me all you want, it's not going to change my mind," Ben challenged, "I'm destroying that thing with or without the 2nd Mass's help."

Weaver smirked, "You're very much your father's son."

Ben flinched, dropped his eyes and loosened his stance. He hadn't expected that soft sentiment.

"You've got that same passionate streak," Weaver went on, "Same fire in your eyes. Your brother, Hal, he gets it too, but not quite like you. I imagine he takes more after your mother."

"People always used to say the opposite," Ben murmured, shrugging.

"Dai tells me you took off during the recon," Weaver commented, "That you claimed you heard a Skitter during a rest break, and went to take care of it without alerting the group."

"It's not a 'claim'," Ben haughtily replied, "I had to go kill a Skitter. It could've compromised our position, our entire mission-"

"I'm not going to argue about what the truth is," Weaver interrupted, "Because that's not the issue. You never should've left the base of operations without permission from your unit leader."

"What about extenuating circumstances, sir?"

"Was there reason to be concerned for the immediate safety of the unit?" Weaver returned.

Ben hesitated, swallowed hard and meekly answered, "Yes."

Weaver perked a skeptical brow and stroked his chin, glaring appraisingly at the young boy in front of him. Ben shifted his position, taking a couple steps back and folding his arms over his chest, his eyes darting across the floor.

"I don't get what the big deal is. I heard a Skitter in the area, I went to kill it," Ben complained, "I'm fine. The unit is fine. Everything turned out fine."

"The big deal is that you broke protocol and when an expedient retreat was required, your decision hindered that escape and further put at risk your team. I'm putting you on probation until we move to the new location – wherever the hell that ends up being," Weaver decided, "I'm grounding you to camp. You can serve night watch with Valerie on the east perimeter, keep you from getting restless."

"This isn't fair," Ben groaned shaking his head at Weaver's every word.

"Being a soldier in war isn't about what's fair to the individual, it's about what's best for the good of the unit, and you'll do well to remember that," Weaver snapped, then he gently remarked, "You're right, Ben."

"About…what, sir?" Ben whispered, dually taken aback and overly irritated. Judging from Weaver's lecture, apparently the old man felt Ben was wrong about everything, he couldn't fathom what one, little thing there was that he'd actually gotten right in the old man's eyes.

"I can't understand your frustration. Not fully, anyhow," Weaver admitted, "You were taken from your family, held captive against your will, forced to do things…sometimes horrible things, that you can't remember doing but some of which others around you can, and the worst is the things that were or might have been done to you that you can't remember and might not even know anything about. It's a terrible cross to bear, and I'm sorry you've got it on your shoulders, I truly am."

Ben tightened his arms around himself and stared blankly at the tiled floor. He felt a coldness settle over him suddenly, a strange feeling that wasn't altogether terrible but wasn't exactly great either. He certainly understood the intention of Weaver's words, they were meant as a comfort in a way, or perhaps a compromise of conflicted ideologies, but the true effect was a searing confirmation of: _yes, Ben, you really are alone in the world_.

"I apologize but I am going to have to pull back on this mission," Weaver said and then firmly amended, "For _now_. We'll keep our ears to the ground on that structure; keep a weathered eye on it, but we need to re-focus our efforts on finding a new camp. I do agree with you that it would be nice if we could take that thing down, and I'm _hoping_ that if Jimmy's assignment is a success-"

"Jimmy's assignment?" Ben interrupted, raising a brow. He thought of the 'project' Weaver mentioned putting Jimmy on in lieu of current missions, but wasn't entirely certain of how it could possibly connect to that alien structure. Weaver scrunched his features, his lip pursing into a severe frown.

"He didn't mention it to you," the old man surmised, stunned by the revelation and Ben wasn't sure what hurt more in that moment, the fact that Weaver had simply assumed Jimmy would've passed the information on and hadn't or that Ben would've assumed the same.

Ben tensed again, lowering his face completely to hide his features suddenly contorted with confused heartache as he shook his head: _no, Jimmy did not_.

"Okay…well…I've got him training the other unharnessed kids," Weaver supplied.

"You've got him _what_?" Ben cried, once more bursting with agitation, "Why?"

Weaver blinked repeatedly and then repositioned himself, shifting his weight a few times and furrowing his brow once the initial stun of Ben's reaction had worn off.

"Because I think they could make great fighters," he explained, "There is a potential that they might have abilities similar to your own, and that would make them ideal partners for you out on the battlefield or during ops where we need your highly specialized skills but no one else is capable of going with you."

"Who is he training exactly? Rick?" Ben demanded, growing increasingly anxious. He paced a few times, shaking his head and glaring at the floor. He had to bite back his desire to verbally lash out at the older man; he was on thin ice as it was, what with being relegated to probationary work.

"No, no. Not Rick. He's expressed no interest in becoming a fighter and he's too unpredictable anyhow. He's making progress but he's a little unstable still. Damn it all if that wouldn't be a perfect scenario, though," Weaver answered, though Ben felt no relief in that new knowledge, "It's the other four…what were their names…ah…Kelsey…Romeo, no, Roman, uh…Doug, and um …uh…Gia, it was."

"Why didn't you ask me before giving him this assignment?" Ben seethed.

"I wasn't aware I needed your permission," Weaver responded curtly, "Mind explaining your problem with it?"

"I just…I don't want Jimmy around them…is all," Ben said, having difficulty forming words with his suddenly thick tongue. Weaver offered Ben a long, drawn out blink, and then he cleared his throat and took a slow breath.

"Funny, I thought that might be Jimmy's decision to make, not yours," Weaver calmly retorted, "It wasn't a mandatory assignment, Ben, I offered it and he accepted. You got issue with it, you can take it up with him, but I'm sure we both have a pretty clear idea of how well that'll go over."

Ben grimaced but remained silent, churning with a simmering rage. He wanted to direct his anger at the old man, it seemed the easier of his two options, but he knew Weaver was right, and that if he really wanted to confront the issue, he would need to do so with Jimmy.

"If Jimmy's mission proves a success, my plan is to send you in with those four as your back-up. Is that going to be a problem?" Weaver wondered.

Ben scowled, "I don't know."

"Is there something I'm missing," Weaver demanded, "On the outset, this looked like a good solution, and while I didn't expect you to be best friends with them all, I got to say, I'm a little surprised by your reaction. I would almost venture to guess that…you…hate these other kids."

"I don't hate them," Ben mumbled, "its fine with me. Can I…go?"

Weaver examined Ben a moment, hands on hips and head tipped to the side. Ben fidgeted slightly, attempting to keep his features apathetic, even though he wanted to explode with his stir of angry, frustrated, heartbroken emotions.

"Meet with Val for watch tonight at twenty-one hundred. I'll let her know," Weaver declared, "You're dismissed."

Ben strode briskly from the room and felt oddly upset to find that the hallway was empty. Hal hadn't waited for him after all; the older boy had probably gone off to check on Matt. Ben calmed his furious heart, and tugged out of his pocket the compass Jimmy had lent him that morning. He needed to return it, which provided the perfect excuse to seek out the other boy. So he shoved it back in his pocket and hurried from the community center.

Outside, Ben knew he could probably ask a few fighters as to Jimmy's whereabouts, but he rather preferred avoiding the discomforted looks that other people wore whenever forced into conversation with him, no matter how brief. Instead, he focused on the sounds of camp, listening for the muted, mildly rasped tone of his lover. The tracking technique didn't take nearly as long as it usually did – Jimmy wasn't very verbose on his most talkative days – and Ben easily surmised that the other boy was at the shooting range. He smirked and started that direction.

Several yards away from the range, Ben faltered in his approach. Jimmy was there alright. And so were his four unharnessed disciples.

For a moment, Ben watched, wary-eyed and senses on edge. Jimmy was directing his charges in the basics of shooting an assault rifle, they were lined up along the range with their own guns at the ready, firing sporadically and for the most part, missing their targets altogether. Sometimes they would stop and shout at Jimmy and he would shuffle over to them and answer whatever questions they had, help them line up their shots, an uneasy tension in his gestures and facial expressions.

One, a stout, dark featured boy, seemed to demand Jimmy's attentions the least but in those rare instances when he did call Jimmy over, he would lean close and leer penetratingly at the younger boy. And Jimmy's reaction was obvious. He shyly ducked away, avoided looking at the other boy directly, his body quivering ever so slightly, and it shuddered through Ben a sickening, heated feeling; it curled his fingers firmly into his hands, tight fists, and coursed through his veins like molten rage.

Ben's eyes narrowed on that dark featured boy, his mind and heart hammering into him tumultuous, violent thoughts. He growled low in the back of his throat, took a deep breath, unfurled his clenched fists, and marched unsteadily towards the group.

* * *

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A/N: I'm a little uncertain about Maggie's part. I'm worried she might be a little OOC, but I kind of really wanted to start pushing how she'd stepped into a semi-mother role for Jimmy. I've ranted about this before but they really didn't play up much of Jimmy's relationships with the other 2nd Mass members when they killed him off, which was one of the things I really hated about that episode, it seemed remiss. But, and this is just my opinion, they tend to treat all their characters with this disregard, sweeping their deaths under the rug as this - yawn - thing that happened. As I understand, Dai's death was given just as much nonchalance, and I should've known with the way they treated Klick's death in the first few episodes of the show. That scene where he moves into the building, gets shot with an arrow and...oh, now he's dead. Well, he was a...character, he was there and...had lines and...yup.

Sorry, off on a rant tangent. Moving on. Let me know what you thought of the chapter! I love writing the split perspective chapters, a bit of Jimmy and a bit of Ben.

Anyhow, reviewers: Facepalmer123, meh, okay. :) SassySavanna190, good, I hoped you would find it interesting. Yeah, I hope this chapter gave a bit more perspective on Hal's feelings at the moment. Ben's relationship with his family, and the unintended conflict presented by his relationship with Jimmy is going to play a major role in everything that happens next. JDMlvr1, awesome! Thank you! IcicleLilly, it was meant to be a bit confusing...but I also had dividers in there that disappeared...I hope you liked the extra long chapter, sorry to make you wait so long for it. Haley, hehe, yeah, he is a little clingy. Cookie97, glad you liked it. The flashback/dream/memory things are going to start getting prevalent about middle of this story, so I hope you are all enjoying scratching your heads over those. I really do like writing sibling scenes, its one of my favorite things to write, and I'm sorry that Hal has seemed such a jerk in this story thus far, he will redeem himself at time though...he always does.

Right. Need to print my essay, proof it, finalize it, and print again, then run to class. Oi, no time! Got to run, see you all Sunday!


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: Thank you to the reviewers, you guys are great.

And thank you to Greg for beta-ing!

Read.

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XIV.

Jimmy procured a few AK-47s from the armory, cleared them before handing them off to his students, one each, and then grabbed a couple boxes of M43 cartridges. As Weaver had promised, the make-shift shooting range – an abandoned lot about a block from the community center – was emptied. Most of the 2nd Mass fighters would be loafing around the mess at that time of day anyhow, smells of lunch wafting in the air.

Jimmy set up a line of paper targets on the back wall and lined up his students about twenty yards away from them. He showed the group how to load their clips, pointing out the safety and demonstrating how to toggle it on and off. Then he showed them a proper stance, slightly angled but otherwise square to the target, butt of the gun tucked securely against his shoulder, one hand on the grip – finger _off_ the trigger, the other gently wrapped under the barrel. He lined a target in his sight, drew in his breath, and released it slow as he gently fingered the trigger and fired off four or five rounds in a matter of seconds.

The four observing teenagers flinched at the resounding report, and Jimmy's bullets ripped through one of the targets. Jimmy lowered his gun and clicked his tongue reprovingly. He'd been off-mark a few inches the first couple shots, and though he was able to readjust for the last rounds, he knew those initial bullets meant the difference between a dead Skitter and a dead him or a dead any-other-fighter whose back he was meant to be watching.

"Alright," Jimmy announced, peering cagily down the line at his students, "Check that your safety is off, and load five rounds in your weapons."

Douglas had the most trouble getting his bullets in the chamber, and Gia paused, slinging her rifle over her shoulder to help him. Kelsey struggled as well, but persevered on her own, shying away from Jimmy when he stepped forward to help her. Roman was the first to finish, already holding the gun against his shoulder and curiously examining his sight.

"Uh…keep your finger off the trigger until I give the okay," Jimmy instructed Roman, as he edged precariously around the older boy to inspect the others and their guns.

Once they were all finished loading their weapons, Jimmy gave them the go ahead to lift their rifles and went to check their stances, readjusting them as he moved along the line. Then he told them to take their safeties off and declared, "Fire!"

Their shots were lousy. Kelsey got off one round before she dropped the weapon and stumbled back several paces, clapping hands over her ears and grimacing. Douglas flinched every time he pulled the trigger, jerking the barrel slightly up and off to the right and skewing his bullet trajectories all over the range, he managed to hit Roman's target a couple times, but never his own. Gia only let off three rounds before slinging the rifle back over her shoulder in disgust and deciding firmly, "I can't do this". Roman looked every bit the part of a marksman, firing off each round with a perfect stance and a glint of determination lit in his eyes, but he was all show. He never managed to get anywhere near his target.

Jimmy buried his face in his hand and sighed. He wandered to Kelsey first, told her to raise her weapon. She refused.

"I know the noise can take getting used to," Jimmy said in earnest, "Fire a few rounds by yourself, it won't be so loud if it's just you. Take your time, get a feel for it.

Kelsey frowned, shook her head fervently. Jimmy looked helpless to the others.

"Come on, sis," Roman encouraged gently, and she glanced at him uncertainly, her eyes shimmering like ice over a pond in the cool winter sun, "You can do it. I'll be standing right here."

After a moment to consider, Kelsey nodded, then reluctantly lifted her gun once more, resumed her shooting stance, tensing when Jimmy placed a hand on her shoulder to readjust, then she looked down the length of the barrel and was already beginning to jump back before she'd pressed the trigger. Jimmy stopped her.

"Take a deep breath," he advised, "You're too jittery. You need to calm down. Remember to breathe when you pull the trigger. Just breathe."

Kelsey darted a furtive glance at Jimmy, something hot in her features, then she lowered her eyes and brought air in through her noise, released it slow, steady, between her lips. She lifted the gun again and, taking another steadying breath, she pulled the trigger. Her shoulders shuddered at the shot, but she stood her ground, took another few breaths, and then pulled it again, another hesitation and then again she pulled the trigger, until her chamber was empty. She lowered her weapon sheepishly and her friends offered up praise.

Jimmy stepped back, watching solemnly as they touched Kelsey's shoulders and patted her head. He felt a strange twang of guilt at the exchanges, thought of Weaver's intentions for them, thought of Ben, thought of the reception Ben generally received from the 2nd Mass whenever returning from saving the day and grimaced.

"Reload your weapons," Jimmy said tersely and the four followed the command. He gave a few pointers: keep both eyes open, aim a little higher than the target, don't forget to account for wind. Then he told them to 'Fire' and they did so. He studied them each a moment, then when they finished that round, he asked curiously, "Gia, which one is your dominant eye?"

"My _what_?" Gia returned sharply, quirking a brow.

Jimmy ran a hand over his forehead, frustrated. It didn't help that he was feeling a little haggard and light headed. Probably from the heat, and he hadn't eaten anything all day. He hadn't really slept much the night before either.

"Are you right or left handed?" he re-phrased.

"Uh…left. Why?" Gia answered.

"Switch shoulders," he told her, "See if that's any easier. Reload, you guys."

Once more they lined up and rattled off shots at the line of targets. Jimmy watched them, arms folded across his chest, offering tips when he saw fit. Sometimes they beckoned him over, but for the most part, he let them fire off rounds to their hearts' content.

Roman was the first to falter, lowering his weapon with at least a dozen more rounds left to fire. The others soon after lowered their own weapons and Jimmy furrowed his brow at the action, opening his mouth to ask as to the problem when one by one they all turned round. He followed their harsh, narrowed glazes and his breath hitched in his throat. His heart skipped a few beats. Oddly enough, he felt like a child, his hand crammed in cookie jar.

"Ben," Jimmy called acknowledgment, after a moment to recollect himself from the initial surprise. He slung his rifle up high on his shoulder by its strap and slipped a hand deep into his pocket to hide its nervous tremble, "Hey. When did you get back?"

"Hour or so ago," Ben answered distantly. He stopped a couple meters short of the group, his eyes trailing over the four teenagers lined up along the shooting range, rifles held tentatively in their hands.

Ben's features were rigid, his mouth a thin line, his shoulders squared, his eyes shadowed. Jimmy furrowed a brow and blinked a glance to the four teenagers; they wore mirrored expressions of Ben's own. The air between them all was thick and heavy, it felt so clouded Jimmy could barely see through it, and there he stood smack dab in the middle. He shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat.

"Why so early?" he piped question, wincing at the squeak in his own voice. He was sure he'd hear about it later from his students. Douglas would most likely have a neat little 'Mickey Mouse' quip at the ready the moment he saw opportunity.

Ben shrugged response, finally peeling his eyes from the four teenagers, each boring their own eyes into him like red hot laser sights on a team of sniper rifles, only long enough to glance at Jimmy sidelong.

"Can we talk?" he questioned, there was something strange in his tone, a hardness that Jimmy didn't recognize which didn't sit well in his stomach. He tipped his head back towards his students.

The four teenagers had suddenly shifted their attentions to Jimmy and he didn't much appreciate the scrutinizing expressions they wore, ranging from mildly amused – like Gia's arched brow and curled sneer – to outright disgusted – Roman's wrinkled nose ridge and downturned mouth, as though he'd suddenly smelled something rancid.

"We're talking right now," Jimmy pointed out more harshly than he intended. He was feeling too agitated to deal with Ben at the moment, he just wanted to get the day of shooting practice over with so he could get the hell away from those smarmy bastards, standing there, watching him, assessing his every word, his every movement.

Ben dropped his gaze to the ground, shoved his hands in his pockets, and took a small step back, and Jimmy felt a tug on his heart. He knew he shouldn't be taking out his anger towards those other teens on Ben and that Ben would misunderstand but there was nothing he could do about it at that very moment, so he silently vowed to make it up to the other boy later.

"You guys, reload and practice some more. Doug, call off when to fire," Jimmy instructed, then crossed over towards Ben. He brushed a few fingertips across Ben's forearm, a signal to follow, and Ben fell in step beside him as he led the way a few paces down the street and round a corner, out of sight of the range. They didn't say anything until the sound of gunfire tore into the air.

"Weaver scrubbed my assignment," Ben spoke first.

Jimmy had to fight to hide his elation, it was evident Ben wasn't happy about the decision, so he stitched his brow together into a darkly confused expression and demanded, "Why?"

"Dai and Hal thought it was too dangerous," Ben griped, pacing a few times out of his frustration, "its bullshit! This is a war, for crying out loud, everything is fucking dangerous!"

"Well what was their reasoning?" Jimmy prodded, folding his arms over his chest and following Ben's movements with his eyes, soft and concerned. He didn't like the restlessness he saw in that other boy, the way those brown orbs of his kept darting along the pavement and out across the horizon as though seeking a pale illusion in its distance. He'd been seeing that expression more and more in Ben lately and it was troubling, it turned his stomach something awful, with a grave foreboding.

"That we didn't know enough about the building," Ben seethed, "What the hell were we doing there in the first place? Huh? We weren't going to learn everything there was to learn about it in two days. I don't know what they expected!"

"I don't know, Ben…if Dai was against a mission…" Jimmy started.

"Why do you always do that?" Ben snapped suddenly, locking his eyes, burning furious and fiery, on Jimmy's own and Jimmy took a subconscious step back, heart hammering away in his chest.

"Do…what?"

"Just, for once, could you be on my side," Ben cried.

"Ben, I'm not on anyone's…"

"You are _always_ choosing everyone else's side but mine. You're always sticking up for Hal when he's being an asshole," Ben ranted, the foreign hardness in his tone growing heavy and dark. Jimmy tensed his shoulders, an odd, sick feeling stirring in his gut, something he hadn't felt in a long time, something he'd never felt around Ben before – Ben, who made him feel safe, secure, "And now you're taking Dai's side against me too. It would be nice…if would be really fantastic, actually, if you acted like you were my boyfriend and could support me for five fucking seconds!"

Jimmy flustered, dropping his eyes to the ground and shaking his head furiously, as he took another step back.

"I can't deal with this right now," he whispered, voice quivering noticeably, "I got to go."

"That is so typical. Walk away the minute things start to get hard," Ben seethed, and as Jimmy turned to leave he reached out to grab hold of his arm, "Will you hold on one fucking-"

The sudden grip on Jimmy's forearm felt like an iron clamp, it crushed in his skin almost to the bone and jerked him to a harsh and sudden halt, sending a white fire up his arm and forcing a mangled cry from his throat. Ben immediately let go at the pained sound, and Jimmy nearly stumbled, spinning around in surprise, holding his injured arm at his side and away from the other boy, his eyes wide and mouth agape, staring at an equally stunned speechless Ben.

"I'm sorry," Ben quickly rattled off, his words shaking with a terrible, desperate sorrow, "I'm so sorry…"

He started forward, as if to investigate the damage, but Jimmy pulled away.

"It's okay," Jimmy hastily said, he attempted to straighten and relax his arm, despite the searing pain shooting up his shoulder, "I'm fine…I just…was startled," he narrowed his eyes on Ben and demanded, "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Ben shrugged, head hanging low, pacing back a few steps and running a hand over his neck, and sheepishly explaining, "I don't know. I was just upset…I lost control for a second…I just…" He turned back around and met Jimmy's gaze, his eyes piercing, pleading, he took a few steps towards Jimmy, reached out as though to touch him, but faltered, hands falling lost at his side, as he quietly insisted, "I'm so sorry. I would _never_ hurt you. You know that."

"Yeah, I know," Jimmy murmured. He didn't even sound convincing to his own ears.

It was hard to think about, that fear that shot through him in just that small fraction of a moment, an age-old fear so familiar yet foreign at the same time, in this life so removed from his old one. He didn't know he could feel that way ever again, and it broke his heart all the more, to know the feeling had stemmed from this boy he cared for so deeply. He didn't want to associate Ben with anything like that, and he didn't want Ben – aware of so little, but _enough_ of his past that a semblance of understanding could be gleamed as to what it meant – to know that he had if only for a moment, a split of a second. He studied the other boy, as he tried to slow his thrumming heartbeat, catching the darkness in Ben's eyes and easily surmising the terrible thought roiling within those cast shadows, the same thought roiling through his own: _harness_.

Jimmy hesitated, and then brought his hand, trembling fiercely, out to curl in Ben's shirt front, dragging the other boy forward a step, "I'm fine. I promise."

"Okay," Ben silently conceded, but clearly didn't believe as he tentatively reached a hand up, brushed the hair from Jimmy's eyes and searched them with his own.

"Since when do you lose control?" Jimmy wondered, concern wavering his tone. Ben could be zealous at times; Jimmy often attributed it to an endearing over-excitability, and in that a bit awkward and clumsy, but he'd adapted impressively well to his new found abilities. It still amazed Jimmy to think about how easily, how quickly, Ben had been able to gain control over his alien strength, agility, and hearing, a feat Jimmy couldn't imagine ever being able to accomplish himself.

Ben shrugged and dropped his hands to his sides, shoving them in his pockets and taking a step back.

"I don't know. Lately…I've been feeling…I don't know," Ben sighed and shrugged again, "It's nothing. I'll figure it out."

"Ben…" Jimmy began warily and Ben glanced back at him, a silent plea in his eyes for Jimmy to let it go.

"It's nothing. Don't worry about it."

Jimmy sighed, and dropped his gaze to the ground once more. He could hear Ben nearby, pacing again, but almost listlessly now. They were silent a few moments. The sick feeling from before subsided and Jimmy tried to shake it off as a momentary thing, his typical feelings around Ben, of security and warmth, returning in full force. He took a deep breath and decided one of them would have to break the silence eventually, and one glance at Ben told him it wouldn't be that other boy currently drowning in a vapid sea of self-loathing.

"I didn't mean to make it seem like I was against you," Jimmy whispered.

"It's okay," Ben muttered, rubbing his face with his hands and begrudgingly admitting, "And you're right…I guess. Dai doesn't retreat easy. If he thinks it's a bad idea, then maybe it is."

There fell another short, contemplative silence between them, as they weighed the emotions that lingered from their heated argument.

"You've never called me that before," Jimmy quietly noted.

"Called you what?" Ben quirked a curious brow.

"That word…" Jimmy mumbled, eyeing the ground. He scrunched his nose and dropped his voice so low he could barely hear himself, "…boyfriend."

Ben flushed, closing his eyes, "Oh. I…yeah…that…um…"

"Is that what I am then…now…? Your…?" Jimmy murmured, smiling inwardly despite himself.

"Well…I thought that…yes…is that…wrong?" Ben pressed.

"I don't know…no..." Jimmy shook his head and smirked, shrugging, "I think I…I don't know….actually kind of…like it...liked you saying it…"

"Really?" Ben grinned, features suddenly lit and Jimmy rolled his eyes as though exasperated by the eager, puppy dog look and not completely infatuated by it.

"Yeah," he confirmed quietly, then narrowed his eyes and hastily added, "Just don't do it again."

"Cool. Okay. Yeah, fine. So…can I call you babe then?"

"No," Jimmy said flatly and Ben dampened, though only just slightly.

"Then…will you call me babe?" Ben attempted and Jimmy pulled a face.

"_No_!" he cried, wrinkling his nose, "What is with you and pet names?"

"I don't know," Ben replied, stepping up towards Jimmy so that there was maybe an inch – and that was being generous – between them, "It's kind of like…this special word, that only I can call you…kind of like a tag, a dog tag…that says…" he rest his mouth, hot and sweet against Jimmy's own and murmured, "Mine."

Jimmy leaned into the kiss a moment, letting it warm through him and chase away any lingering concerns streaming from the ache in his arm and shoulder, and then he pulled away and insisted, "I do have to go, though, got to make sure they don't shoot themselves."

"We need to talk about that," Ben said and Jimmy gave him an inquisitive look, "Your new assignment…you know, the one you never told me about?"

Jimmy grimaced, "Oh…yeah…that. Right. Uh…since your mission is cancelled, I can find you tonight around camp later, right?"

"No, I'm on watch tonight," Ben answered.

"Really? With who?"

"Val," Ben replied nonchalant.

Jimmy cringed, a horrible emotion swarming through him. It wasn't that there was anything wrong with Valerie, she was a decent fighter and she was always nice to Ben, but maybe that was the problem. She was a little too nice to Ben.

"Why _her_?" Jimmy demanded.

Ben rolled his eyes, haggardly explaining, "I didn't choose her. Weaver just stuck me on watch with whoever was available and it happened to be her," he smirked and perked a brow suggestively, "We'll be right on the outskirts of camp, you could always come and visit."

"We'll see," Jimmy grumbled, "I really have to go now."

Jimmy stalked back to the shooting range, barely waving a hand over his shoulder when Ben called a 'good-bye'. He braced himself for the merciless remarks from his students but for the most part, they all remained shooting at their targets, not so much pausing to acknowledge his return. Except, that is, for Roman, who glared reprovingly down his nose at the younger boy.

"You got something to say?" Jimmy challenged, though it didn't sound very impressive the way his voice quaked. Roman shook his head.

"No. Nothing," he leered.

Jimmy took up a stance at the end of the shooting line; folding his arms over his chest and watching the others shoot for a moment, trying to ignore the fact that Roman was still studying him so closely.

"I don't understand how you can trust that razorback so much," Roman commented, and Jimmy flinched involuntarily, hands balling into fists that were tangled in his arms.

"I told you that if you call him that our deal is off," he sneered.

"Apologies," Roman said, in a proud tone, "Razorback Ben. What'd he do to deserve your unwavering trust, brat?"

"Luckily, we're not here for me to explain that," Jimmy muttered, keeping his gaze steadily on the targets, trying to discern where his students were each at as far as grasping the concept of 'aiming', "We're here so you can learn how to shoot a rifle. So shoot."

"Actually, we're here so that one day I can fight alongside razorback Ben, so seeing as how he will one day be my comrade-in-arms, I absolutely think it is relevant that you share with the class what it is, exactly, you see in him," Roman persisted, and one by one, his friends paused in their firing to peer curiously at the two boys.

Jimmy bristled, his cheeks flushed red.

"What exactly is your problem with him?" he returned sharply.

"I don't like the way he looks," Roman answered evenly, "Those big buggy eyes and pouted mouth, he always looks like he's about to cry. And his whiny voice grates my nerves. Your turn."

Jimmy glared away, clenching and unclenching his jaw almost rhythmically. He chewed his inner cheek, his thoughts instinctively defensive: Ben didn't cry and he never looked like he would…and his voice was not whiny, maybe it wasn't Roman's powerful boom, but it was steady, reliable, _passionate_.

"None of that actually has anything to do with _him_," Jimmy bit out, "Do you even know anything about Ben? Have you ever had a conversation with him? He's a good guy-"

"What's there to know?" Roman cut in, "He gets special treatment because his dad was the second. He does whatever he wants and no one ever questions it, all he has to do is slap on that confused, lost, little puppy dog expression and he's got everyone patting him on the head telling him everything will be alright. How much of that do you honestly think is the real him?"

Jimmy shook his head and shoved his hands in his pockets. He'd heard it all before. There was a large number of 2nd Mass members that believed there was a possibility that the unharnessed children were still being controlled by the alien enemy and that at any moment they could be ordered to kill everyone in camp.

The most painful part of those whispered theories was that Ben, himself, sometimes wondered if there might be truth to it. Some days it weighed heavier on Ben's mind than others, some days he didn't want Jimmy to touch or even so much as see those spikes running the length of his spine. It hurt Jimmy more than he could ever explain, for Ben to be so ashamed of such a huge part of his life that he thought he couldn't even share it with Jimmy.

"People might say the same of you," Jimmy muttered.

"And they would be right," Roman returned, and Jimmy startled at that admission, "If I were him, I'd play that game too. Putting on that sad, doe face, playing the part of the hapless victim bumbling back into the real world. Playing dumb, acting like he doesn't remember anything."

Jimmy shifted uncomfortably, glaring at the other boy, his stomach turning circles, as he whispered, "He _doesn't_ remember anything."

"How much do _you_ really know about him? From the look on your face, I'd say not much," Roman remarked, too gleefully for Jimmy's liking, "Hell, I bet you actually believe that lie he always tells, about how he's just going out for a walk every night when he slips out of camp."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Jimmy questioned, sounding breathless. He felt suddenly cold, a horrible chill creeping through his limbs and prickling into his heart.

A horrible smile creased Roman's lips, and he leered at Jimmy almost delightedly, "You didn't even know about that, did you?"

Jimmy said nothing, biting hard at his cheek, trying to erase the grim solemnity from his features. He darted looks to all the teenagers looming over him, watching his reaction with interest.

"He goes out some nights. I know that," Jimmy murmured, choking on his words, struggling to get his mouth to work, "He gets restless."

"Not _some_ nights. _Every_ night," Roman corrected, "He goes out _every_ night. And he comes back smelling of blood and Skitters."

Jimmy shuddered, ducking his head to hide his obvious contortion of features at that enlightenment. In recent times, Ben had taken to hunting Skitters when they were out on patrols. After the warehouse incident, though, Ben hadn't brought it up and Jimmy wasn't entirely interested in picking the risky hobby back up. He preferred quiet patrols with Ben, talking in low whispers about a miscellany of topics, far removed from the war. If Roman was being truthful then that meant Ben was still hunting, but alone.

"Now knowing that, you going to tell me you still trust him, brat?" Roman questioned.

"We're done for today," Jimmy whispered distantly, "Bring the rifles back to Dai."

He swept the box of remaining bullets off the ground, and tucked it in his pocket. Wordlessly, he spun away from the group and started trudging back to camp, focusing on breathing despite the heavy pressure sitting on his chest, on moving one foot in front of the other despite his legs feeling weak and ready to give out underneath him.

In the community center, Jimmy slipped into one of the bathrooms and locked himself in a stall. He rubbed his hands over his face, a few tears unbidden streamed down and he quickly swiped them away.

_Every night._ The words beat into him, into his brain, over and over. He replayed recent nights passed, replayed invitations he'd mustered the courage to make that were easily rejected by Ben with some excuse or another; _lies_. He thought of the other night, standing in Ben's tent, and Ben's sudden loss of interest in their heated kiss, and Jimmy's own sudden subsequent dismissal by Ben in that almost apologetic tone; _too tired_. It was a lie. They were all lies.

Jimmy wrapped his arms around himself; he couldn't stop the uncontrollable shaking of his shoulders, the welling pain in his chest. He sniffled hard and swatted away a few more errant tears, then gently peeled away the fabric of his sleeve to reveal his forearm and the already darkly developed bruise that had formed where Ben had gripped him too tight, a perfect purplish-black handprint.

Jimmy closed his eyes, hissing at the pain still emanating from the mark, holding it tenderly to his chest. If Ben could lie so easily about his nightly routines, then what else could Ben lie about? A small, strangled sob escaped Jimmy's throat and he grimaced, hating himself more than he ever thought possible, as he wondered, was Roman right? Was it wrong to trust Ben?

* * *

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A/N: Yeah, so...I kind of don't really like the way Ben and Jimmy's convo ended, which I'm sure many will disagree because it ended all fluffy and nice, but it was too sudden a shift in mood for me but that's how it came out when I wrote it and I didn't have the time to figure out a new way to write it and...yeah...

Also, Greg was very disappointed that Roman and Ben didn't come to blows in this chapter. Kind of wondering how you guys are going to feel about it? Let me know! Review, please.

As for the reviewers, didn't get many this chapter (kind of disappointing, but those who did review more than made up for it in what they wrote) : SassySavanna190, your reviews have been too awesome lately, I'm glad you're really getting into the story! And I agree, Maggie is a great character and I really hope to use her a bit more in the story, though I don't know if everything I had planned for her will make it in. JDMlvr1, you're right, at least Jimmy did get a ceremony. Though...I kind of hated that too, because it was only done to be like, "Look how sad Weaver is, and listen to him talk, he's such a great leader...and he wants to keep fighting..." And loathe as I am to admit it, a lot of the criticism about his speech commending Jimmy as being this great hero is, unfortunately, well founded. Maybe that one shot of Jimmy helping save Tom from the Berserkers is supposed to make us go, "Oh! He's become a good fighter and comes through in battle now" and thus, make Weaver's speech believable but we needed to see it more in the series. They just do too much telling, not enough showing, if that makes sense...I don't know. Haley, I was kind of excited about your longer than normal review! I'm glad to hear you like Roman, though I'm not sure how you feel about him after this chapter, and yeah...Ben's life is sucking now, but at least now him and Jimmy's relationship is labelled with more concrete terms. IcicleLilly, lol, I'm glad it's got your interest a bit piqued. Hope you weren't disappointed with this installment!

Now, that is that, I have to get ready to go shopping and eat sushi! See you all Thursday!


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: Happy Thanksgiving to everyone celebrating today! Hope your turkey is almost as good as mine. :)

Big thanks to the reviewers, you guys were in tip-top shape last chapter.

And of course, a big thanks to Greg for beta-ing. He's going on a very important business trip this weekend, everyone wish him luck!

Read.

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XV.

"…then we went to Martha's Vineyard for the day and picked apples. My brother and I raced to see who could fill their bucket fastest, and he tried to cheat by putting branches and leaves on the bottom of his bucket, but I totally saw right through that lame ruse, and I dumped his bucket and was deemed the winner, by ruling of my Aunt Dorie," Valerie rattled off in her usual high-pitched, sing-song way.

Ben, for the most part, had tuned her out hours ago, but he still had to maintain partial attention, because every now and then she would take a breather and ask his opinion about something and he didn't want to be caught off guard. It only made her repeat everything.

"Oh my gosh, I never told you about my Aunt Dorie, did I?" Valerie realized, she gasped and briefly place a hand on Ben's arm, she liked to touch when she talked, "Aunt Dorie made the best apple pies ever created in the world. She was fantastic. I miss her so much. She died. Oh gosh, not in the invasion, of course. She had cancer."

"Of course," Ben muttered, glancing at his watch for what must have been the hundredth time that night. Still three hours to go before watch was over. He sighed, he had hoped Jimmy might come but it was starting to look like that wasn't going to happen.

Ben and Valerie were seated comfortably next to one another in the front seat of an old green Buick on the south eastern corner of the camp perimeter. They hadn't driven it there, it didn't run. It had actually been found in the driveway of one of the houses in the neighborhood and a handful of fighters had pushed it into the street to serve as a watch-post, knocking out the windows for ease of gun use.

"She was bald for a while, and had to wear wigs. She had a whole bunch of them, every color, and every style imaginable. She was so funny about it; sometimes she would take her wig off in public, just to freak people out."

"Valerie?"

"She had this one wig that she called her black woman wig. Oh my gosh, is that racist? It totally was not meant to be racist. But it was this big poufy black afro wig and when she put it on she looked absolutely ridiculous. I think I still have pictures of her wearing it back at camp."

"Valerie…"

"I can show them to you when we get back. Oh, I loved my Aunt Dorie. She was fantastic. I said that already, didn't I? Anyway, she lived in San Francisco, but she had a loft in Denver, and she was always traveling everywhere. She said she was free spirited. My dad said she was nuts."

"Valerie!"

"Oh my gosh, what?" Valerie faltered, her eyes widened in start and she darted quick scouring looks around the area, as she gripped her rifle closely to her body, "Did you hear something?"

"No," Ben replied, emphatically, "I can't hear anything."

"Really? Why?" Valerie wondered. Ben screwed his eyes shut and took a deep, calming breath.

"Just…could we save this conversation for another time?" Ben asked, pleaded, "I have a headache."

"A headache," Valerie repeated dramatically. She suddenly put her hand on Ben's forehead and he startled back against the cloth bucket seat that smelled somewhat of mildew and moth balls. She put her other hand on her own severely furrowed brow as a basis of comparison, "You don't feel feverish…maybe a little colder than normal. Or maybe I'm feverish? What kind of headache is it? Maybe you just need water? Does it feel like a migraine? Is there vertigo? Are you feeling nauseous at all? Oh gosh, maybe we should just head back to camp and go see Dr. Glass."

"It's not that bad of a headache," Ben protested, gently removing Valerie's hand from off his brow and pushing it back towards her. He sighed; she was doing her pitying stare routine. He hated when she did that and he braced himself for the conversation he knew would inevitably follow.

"It's not because of…" Valerie gestured to her neck, indicating the spikes that protruded from beneath Ben's skin and ran the length of his spine starting from the base of his neck and ending somewhere mid-back.

Ben rolled his eyes, groaning, "No."

"Okay," Valerie said, sounding unintentionally patronizing, "Well you'll tell me if it is because of…_that_, right?"

"Sure," Ben muttered, readjusting his rifle with its barrel pointed out the windshield and leaning forward a bit in his chair to get a better view of the outside.

They sat in silence for a blissful two minutes during which time Ben sort of started to feel guilty for being annoyed with Valerie, she really was a sweet girl with earnest intentions and had always treated him well enough, that is, until Valerie grew restless and asked, "Are you sure there's nothing you want to talk about?"

"I'm sure," Ben grumbled.

"Really? Because you just seem like there's something you want to talk about. You know I read people really well. I have good intuition, that's what my dad says all the time. I thought about majoring in psychology, becoming a psychiatrist, when I finished high school…you know…before…but then I also really wanted to do the fashion design thing and I was really good at that," Valerie rambled on, readying to enter a whole new spiel.

Ben grimaced, in that moment, sensing a coming flood of useless information about the spritely girl, made a snap decision to save his sanity and quickly spit out, "What do you know about dreams?"

Valerie faltered, startled by the sudden shift in conversation. She tentatively bit her bottom lip and considered the question.

"I know a_ lot_ about dreams, actually," she announced cheerfully, "My Aunt Dorie, you remember I told you about her…"

"Just minutes ago, yes."

"Yes, well, she gave me all these books about dream interpretation. I know all gobs of stuff about dreams and their meanings. They all have meanings you know. Sometimes they can be predictions of the coming future but most of the time they're like windows to our soul, they tell us things about ourselves that we didn't even know," Valerie explained, then smiling broadly up at Ben, she chirped, "Why? Did you have a dream you need interpreted?"

Ben sighed haggardly, gazing out into the dead night. For a moment, he almost wished a few Skitters would appear; give him something to actually do. Valerie probably wasn't the best person to talk about this with, but he didn't exactly have anyone else. Hal would think it was stupid, it was a little embarrassing to discuss with Dr. Glass, and Jimmy would probably just get mad.

"I've been dreaming about this girl," Ben admitted.

Valerie perked a brow at that, laying an arm across her belly and relaxing her rifle in the crook of her elbow, trying not to appear more interested than would be considered normal and platonic.

"Oh. Really? What girl? Anyone…I…know?"

To be honest, Ben was perfectly aware of Valerie's feelings towards him, he'd be a completely oblivious idiot to miss the lurid stares and congenial sighs she directed his way, and then, of course, there was the fact that super hearing had its advantages when it came to finding out all the juicy gossip around camp, especially about one's self. He sort of felt badly about the ordeal, but there was nothing he could do aside from pretend he didn't notice her advances and hope she eventually found someone that could return her feelings and give her the love she deserved.

Now Ben couldn't exactly say he was thrilled when he learned Valerie's friend Mary had a huge crush on Jimmy, but considering Jimmy _was_ a completely oblivious idiot, Ben was fairly certain it would remain non-threatening. Though, oddly enough, Ben never felt badly about the harsh treatment Jimmy unwittingly gave the guileless girl whenever she was attempting to flirt or simply start up a conversation.

Even more confounding, a dark part of Ben sort of hoped Mary would do something daring that would force Jimmy to crush her heart and soul entirely; which, the wish itself made Ben feel bad, because he didn't understand why he disliked Mary so much. Like Valerie she was also very sweet, although, she was incredibly stupid. And not very attractive at all, she had buck teeth. And her laugh was annoying.

That settled it, Ben decided, Mary was just plain awful and she needed to stay away from Jimmy.

"I don't know," Ben explained his eyes still fixated on the vast stretch of silver stars spread out across the pitch black sky, "I've never seen her, only in the dreams. She's blonde, has these very striking gray eyes, young, pale face, real slender, always wearing this billowing white dress."

"Sounds pretty," Valerie commented silently.

"Yeah," Ben confirmed in a soft whisper, lost in the tidbits of imagery he could recall of the long-since faded dreams.

"And…um…how does she…what does she do? Does she say anything? How are you guys together…um…how do you feel about her? Do you…feel…_anything_…about her?" Valerie stammered question, it was evident in the quake of her voice that keeping up the 'merely platonic interest' façade was growing more difficult.

Ben's brow wrinkled together and he frowned. Feel about her? He hadn't really thought about it before. He tried to reflect on the girl, tried to sort out the swirling emotions that her image aroused in him.

"I feel…something about her, yeah. I don't know. Conflicted, I guess. Like connected, but not…we're usually standing in these odd places. I don't recognize anything, but all the colors are really vivid, you know. We talk…" he trailed off and confessed, "I don't really remember what we talk about. I think it's important, though, the conversations. They seem important."

"There's nothing else you really remember? Like, any objects laying around…maybe an apple or…oh! Birds?"

"No," Ben shook his head, scrunching his brow and trying to picture anything else about the dream, the background, any other people, "I don't really remember much about it." He sighed, "I feel like I know her, or I should…as though we've met before…in another lifetime, maybe. When she's looking at me I feel like she's looking into me. That she sees parts of me that I didn't know existed. That she understands…understands me."

Ben faltered, suddenly looking nervously to Valerie. She was staring at him in an almost awe and it made him uncomfortable. He hadn't realized but his description of the mystery girl might have come off as gushing. It probably was a good idea not to talk about this with Jimmy; it was definitely a conversation that would've ended in violence.

Briefly, Ben flashed on his most recent conversation with Jimmy and he felt his heart crush under the sever weight of his guilt. He could still feel Jimmy's arm in his hand, so slender and brittle, he could've snapped it like a twig, and the realization that, in that split second of a moment, that thought had occurred to him turned his stomach inside out. He glared down almost accusingly at his hand, the one that had roughly dragged Jimmy back towards himself.

_I would never hurt you_, Ben had promised, but he wasn't sure he believed his own words. He wasn't entirely certain what had overcome him in that moment, he could barely recall reaching out to grab hold of Jimmy, the rage and adrenaline had been pumping furious through his veins, his senses had all been on highest alert, yet his vision, his consciousness were blurred. It occurred to him that he _could_ hurt Jimmy, he was more than capable, and what was more frightening, if that incident were any indication then he didn't know exactly what he _would_ do at any given moment.

"Wow," Valerie finally breathed out. She bit her lower lip, dropping her eyes and reluctantly admitting, "She sounds amazing."

Ben blinked back into their conversation. Amazing? Who? The girl in his dreams? Amazing wasn't quite the word Ben would use for her. Maybe unnerving, or disquieting or to borrow some of Jimmy's favorite phrasing, downright creepy.

"Any theories about what it might mean?" Ben wondered and Valerie was thoughtful a very long time.

"Well, without more information it's kind of hard to figure, but…" Valerie paused theatrically, batting her lashes a moment, then took a deep breath and perambulated an expedited hypothesis, "I think it means your yearning for someone…not necessarily a romantic someone…maybe romantically, I don't know, if there was an apple I would know for certain, but there wasn't one so I don't know, but the white dress may signify innocence…which would mean _no_ romance…or maybe love without lust, I never quite understood the whole 'innocence' thing because love makes me think sex and innocence makes me think children and I don't like the thought of sex and children together, that's just terrible.

"But then, I guess sex does lead to children, so then maybe that's what it means? Oh, but it could also mean marriage – white, not innocence…innocence doesn't mean marriage but a marriage could be innocent, you know? Which marriage, obviously, could still mean a romantic someone. The feelings of connection, though, definitely means you're looking for someone outside of yourself to form a meaningful bond with, someone who you can truly be yourself around.

"And, you know, I can't say I'm too surprised. I mean, it's understandable given your…circumstances. I mean, you're lonely, and honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if it means you _are_ looking for a romantic someone. Not that I'm trying to say you need romance, I'm just saying…it's that you're…you're a young boy with hormones, right, you have needs? And I think maybe the white definitely means like a deep, meaningful love, kind of like one that leads to marriage, a future, which makes sense, because I think you're very mature for your age and you're a very sensitive person and…also, well, you spend all your free time with Jimmy. It's not like you can fall in love with him, right? That is just too ridiculous. And then, of course, you've got those raging hormones not being taken care of, and, not to mention, it's hard to think about the future around him…he's kind of a depressing guy to be around."

Ben was pointing a warning glare Valerie's way and she flustered, suddenly realizing the dangerous ground she may have just trampled all over.

"Oh my gosh! I so did not mean it to sound like that. Don't get me wrong, I think Jimmy is really a nice guy and I get it, I do. He's your best friend, your first real friend since being rescued and all, but let's be honest, he's kind of really a cold person, and he can be harsh, and sometimes he's so mean to you and I think right now what you may want, what your dream is trying to tell you that you want is a warm, nurturing person, someone to help you sort through your emotions. And maybe that's what this girl represents, your desire for someone…warm."

Valerie fell silent, sucking her bottom lip and darting furtive glances up at Ben every so often. He glared out the windshield, trying to push down the swell of anger in him burning like a wild fire.

Valerie was wrong about Jimmy being cold. Jimmy was fettered, broken in the most horrifying of ways, abrasive, harsh, standoffish, impossible at times, yes, but cold, never. Deep inside, underneath the shattered bits of a not-so-happy childhood, there was something undeniably warm about that other boy, a tiny flickering flame that just needed to be kindled and fed before it could grow ostensibly into the roaring fire it had the potential to be.

Maybe Ben could forgive Valerie because she didn't know how endearingly adorable Jimmy could look with his features softened, his breathing sharp and shallow, his cheeks flushed. She didn't know how powerful he could be, a weatherworn limb that refused to snap from the torrential winds that raged around him. She didn't know how vulnerable he could be, the fragility that could be glimpsed behind those endless blue eyes that drove Ben mad with the desire to just hold Jimmy close and never let go and the knowledge that if he tried Jimmy would slip out of his grasp and be gone in the blink of an eye.

Maybe, Ben could forgive her for that slight except that she would never be able to see Jimmy like that, no one was allowed to as far as Ben was concerned, no one except for him. So he would just have to settle for being mildly annoyed at her for not trusting that he saw something there in Jimmy, even if she did not.

As for the dream girl, Valerie was definitely wrong about her. She did not represent his desire for someone else. He was sure of it. He closed his eyes and loathed the hollow ache inside his chest as he flashed momentarily on that faraway dream and that delicate featured face. He wasn't exactly sure what that dream meant, but he was absolutely certain of what it did not mean.

Ben winced, and scowled. Painfully, regrettably, he had to admit that there was one thing Valerie had been right about. It was hard to think about the future with Jimmy. The other boy had already determined that if there was any future for him to have, he would throw it away the instant he had it. And if there was a future for Ben to have…well…he didn't know what it would be. He wanted to believe that Jimmy would be in it, but he honestly did not know, and even attempting to think about it made him sick to his stomach.

Ben looked at his watch again and used the car side-mirror to surreptitiously peek back at camp for any movement their direction. He tried not to let himself be disappointed, Jimmy had never actually agreed to stop by. Ben reached his hand in his pocket and curled it round the compass, which he still had to return because he'd gotten so riled up at the shooting range. He cringed at the memory, _snap_ _like a twig_, but shook it away because now it gave him the perfect excuse to seek Jimmy out when he got back to camp.

"Ben," Valerie began sheepishly, and Ben glanced at her, a strange sense of dread welling in the pit of his stomach, "I was wondering…if…"

"Do you know much about the four kids that were rescued with me?" Ben hastily cut Valerie off and her words slammed back into her throat. For a moment, she looked as though she'd been slammed with a semi-truck; so startled was she by the sudden shift in conversation.

"I…what? No, I don't know…" Valerie stammered, turning her attention out the window and looking a bit flustered, "I don't think I know any of them."

"One of them is a boy…sort of…about my height, maybe a little taller, dark hair, light colored eyes," Ben pressed on, then muttered dispassionately, "A lot of muscles."

Valerie shook her head and wrinkled her nose at the description, "Wait, you said four right? I guess then, it could be Roman that you mean. I didn't know he was one of the unharnessed kids. He and those other three are always together…they must all be. That would make sense, I guess. But, you know, they don't have the…" she gestured to the back of her neck and looked up at Ben pityingly, "So…they couldn't be, right?"

"Roman," Ben repeated, getting a feel for the name on his tongue. He didn't like it, it tasted sour. It was one of the names Weaver had listed, "What do you know about him?"

"Not much," Valerie shrugged, sinking back and pulling her knees up, resting her heels on the front of her seat, "He's kind of secretive. All of them are. They only like to be around each other. They're kind of weird. He's a little….intimidating. But he's…he's attractive, I guess. A lot of the girls around camp are, like, in _love_ with him. Not me, of course, he's not really my type. I like sweet, smart guys," she darted a suggestive look at Ben which he valiantly ignored, "Kind of like you."

"Why is he intimidating? Is there any reason…?" Ben wondered. Valerie shook her head.

"Oh gosh, no. I mean, I just think he is," Valerie admitted, "I get that feeling from him, you know, that he could be dangerous. There's something not trustworthy about him. He reminds me of a…of a fox. Have you ever seen a fox?"

"Yeah, once," Ben answered absently, thinking about her words.

"They have those beady eyes and sharp little teeth; I bet Roman has sharp little teeth. I can't help but see it every time I see him, evil tiny teeth," Valerie went on, "Anyway, what I mean is, Roman is kind of like a fox, they say cunning right? Like a fox? He's cunning, but not in a good way, in a bad way. Cunning…and sly. That's just what I think, anyway. Like I said before, all the other girls in camp are head over heels for him. They try to get his attention all the time, it's kind of funny to watch, but also, really sad because he can be mean sometimes. Why are you so interested in him all of a sudden?"

"Jimmy was hanging around him today…" Ben murmured, lost in his own ponderings. Valerie perked her brow sharply, then dropped her eyes and fidgeted with the rifle splayed across her lap.

"Oh," she mumbled, "Is that really such a bad thing? I mean, if he's making new friends, I would think that would be good. He's always so quiet and acts like he doesn't need anyone, even though he so obviously does and, you know, that way you could make new friends too, so that you don't always have to be around Jimmy, and I think that would be good for you too, even if you don't think so! Not everyone hates you because of…well, you know. There are a lot of other people around camp, that are really wonderful people, and I think it would be nice if you…"

Ben tuned Valerie out again, relaxing back and letting her drone on and on. Eventually, she leapt from the subject of his branching out and becoming a full person on to other far less relevant things. As her voice became white noise, and he counted down the hours, minutes, seconds until watch was over, he kept his hand covering the compass in his pocket.

Though Ben tried to maintain optimistic thoughts fixed on Jimmy, his mind kept straying to the way Roman had leered at Jimmy, and the way Jimmy had flustered because of it. Worse yet was the girl in Ben's dream, flitting intermittently into those thoughts and fogging his already befuddled mind.

And then there was the crackling, like static, far into the distance where a few nights back Ben had seen that brilliant light though Jimmy swore there had been none. Something was brewing on the horizon, it had been for days, and Ben was beginning to worry he was about to be swept up in a coming storm.

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A/N: So, I love Valerie. It may not seem like it, the way Ben treats her, but I do. I kind of just write her so that she cracks me up...but you know, as always, feel free to hate her. Maybe she's a character only a mother can love, I don't know. Anyhow, yeah...so Ben talks about the girl of his dreams...er...in his dreams. Heheh...and he's digging up info on Roman. Fun chapter, to me anyhow, maybe not to you all. I don't know, and I won't know, until you review.

Otherwise, I have to go pretend I'm happy my family is over for the holidays when I'd rather be enjoying my four day weekend by myself writing. Whatever.

Reviewers: IcicleLilly, you still love Roman? I'm glad to hear it. Yeah, Jimmy/Ben showing affection for one another is always a good time. You'll have to wait until next chapter to find how Jimmy reacts to the Ben-late-night-Skitter-hunting-alone thing. WhisperMaw! I was so happy to see a review from you! I'd worried you weren't reading anymore...but you are, and that makes me happy! Roman is...Franklin 5.0 with super strength? I like it. But, you know, always got to have an antagonist or two. Girl, that is a lot of schooling. Not too surprising though, you always struck me as a smart cookie, I am very impressed though. Good luck with your school work. Hoping to hear from you again soon! Sassysavanna190, you first thing: I thought planning everything out was the only way to write a story? People don't do that?! And the second thing, yes, Roman is a little bit. I'm kind of glad the control loss on Ben's part caught you by surprise. Hoping to surprise you guys with a bit more things coming up. Hell, I just wrote a scene that really came as a surprise to me. FacePalmer123, I had wondered where you were last chapter, I was a bit concerned. Glad to hear you liked it! Cookie97, aww...yeah, it was kind of a sad chapter. You're right, Ben and Jimmy have sort of switched roles, and they are supposed to trust one another and communicate more. I guess we'll just have to wait and see how it turns out. JDMlvr1, it made your heart hurt, aww...yeah, I don't like when Ben and Jimmy fight either. Strange things are going on with Ben, and it's about to get way worse before it can even think about getting better.

And...that's all folks! Gosh, I want some turkey...


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: Broke 100 reviews, yay! Oi vey, I'm tired. Took a spur-of-the-moment trip out to La Quinta, CA the morning after Thanksgiving, just got back last night in time to update this for everyone. It was a fun trip, went to a zoo thing out there called the Living Desert, and saw the air museum, 27 flyable aircraft from WWII, and volunteer vets from the war wandering around to chat with and gleam a better understanding of the war. Very fun.

I got no writing done though. Oh, well, that just means I have to bust ass and write today.

Thank you to the reviewers, you guys make every update worth it!

And thank you to Greg for beta-ing, you are too awesome.

Read.

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XVI.

Jimmy debated for far longer than was necessary on whether he should visit Ben on watch or not. Shamefully, he'd spent the hours leading up to the time Ben had to leave for his watch hiding in various places from the other boy; spending more time than usual that day inside the community center mainly because Ben tended to avoid the building, but in the instance Ben might dare entering in search of Jimmy, Jimmy also spent a great deal of time in bathroom stalls, and tucked away in the smaller storage closets, tactics he hadn't resorted to in months.

Finally, with about an hour and a half left on Ben's watch, while sitting on the tailgate of a red Silverado pick-up truck secluded from the rest of camp, Jimmy decided he needed to grow some balls and just face the other boy.

After all, Jimmy was Ben's 'boyfriend', wasn't he?

Yeah…because there was that…which meant Jimmy needed to act like it. Whatever it meant to act like a…a…that. Okay, so Roman insinuated that Ben had been sneaking around behind Jimmy's back into the dead of night to hunt alien agents. Right. Now what was he supposed to do about that information as the…as the 'boyfriend'?

Ask Ben point blank, Jimmy determined. It seemed the most logical thing to do. Just come right out and say it: _Have you been lying to me, asshole._

Jimmy furrowed his brow, frowning a little. Maybe he could word it better. 'Are you a complete and total idiot', for instance, much better opening. Of course, that was obvious, maybe redundant as well. Scratch that, he could just go with, 'asshole, asshole, asshole, you bastard'.

Going out hunting alone was one thing, but lying about it was another story entirely.

Jimmy winced, the pain of that revelation ripping into him anew. Lying to him, _him_ – Ben's supposed 'boyfriend', what the fuck did that word even mean? For Christ's sake, how the hell was Jimmy supposed to believe anything Ben ever said to him again? Fuck, how was he supposed to believe the things that Ben had already said to him?

_I care about you_. That could've been a lie.

_I like you, Jimmy_. Maybe it was all a lie.

_I would _never_ hurt you_.

Jimmy flinched inwardly and wiped away frustrated tears that stubbornly formed despite his insistence that they not. His face felt hot and his chest constricted.

That settled it; Jimmy was just going to punch Ben in the face.

Jimmy moved to slide off the tailgate and faltered, his head suddenly swimming, blackness splotching across his vision and nausea overwhelming him. He instantly lay back in the truck bed and squeezed his eyes shut, laying a hand over his eyes, an icy chill washing through him as though he'd been plunged into the ocean.

"Shit," he breathed, his entire body shaking, a cold sweat on his brow. He couldn't take much more of this, he knew. He needed to sleep, but no matter how he closed his eyes, how many sheep leapt by, he couldn't will himself to do it. And he hadn't eaten all day, the sickness in his stomach coming and going and making it hard for him to even think about food without feeling the sudden urge to vomit.

Jimmy sighed, as the blackness somewhat left his vision, though he still felt light and uneasy. He rolled the sleeve up on his arm again, examined the bruise Ben had unintentionally left behind. In the dark of night, he could barely make out the mark, but he could still feel it, his arm throbbing and shoulder sore. He frowned, his brow wrinkling as he looked at his arm and the discolored skin.

Odd, the skin around the bruising almost appeared…iridescent.

Jimmy traced his fingers across it, and grimaced at the tenderness. The skin glistened, seemingly translucent a moment. He could see through the flesh and muscles; see through to the wiry veins, the arteries and capillaries, networked throughout his body, canals, and rivers, channels colored a blue as deep and clear as his own eyes. He ran his thumb over the skin, wiped at it with the palm of his hand, as though trying to brush away the strangeness and make it solid again.

The swimming in his head was back, the blackness like inkblots spilled over his eyes. His limbs felt heavy, weak, and they dropped across his belly. His head lolled to the side, no strength to even hold it up, and then he slipped into an icy darkness.

…

When Jimmy awoke, the air was gray. Sunlight was just beginning to peek over the horizon and he guessed the time to be about four, maybe five in the morning. He checked his arm, but there was nothing remarkable about the skin there, so decided whatever he had noticed last night must have been a delusion brought on by fatigue and rolled his sleeve back down. He grimaced, attempted to sit up but failed miserably, so remained lying on the truck bed staring at the sky. He heard the crunch of footsteps headed his direction, but didn't bother acknowledging it until a body slid up next to him, briefly a warm hand lay over his forehead, and then it pulled slightly back and a cheek dropped down to replace it, a splay of blonde curls falling around him like a veil.

"Mag…" he complained, "Get off."

"Jimmy, you're really cold to the touch," the young woman noted, her voice hitched high with worry, "Have you been sleeping out here?"

"No," Jimmy lied, "I've just been sitting out here for a little while, is all."

He tried sitting again and had a bit more success, propping himself up on his elbows a moment to let the blood flow evenly through him without causing him dizziness, and then he struggled his way to a full seated position. Maggie studied him curiously, nibbling the bottom corner of her mouth as she did so.

"I'm fine," he mumbled, running his hand over his hair subconsciously to smooth it down and letting some strands fall into his face to shadow his features, "You're back."

"Yeah, we just came in a few minutes ago. I saw you laying here, thought it was weird," Maggie explained, shrugging at his quizzical expression, "I'd heard Ben's assignment was called off, figured you'd be hanging out with him…keeping warm. Not napping in the back of a truck alone, turning into a popsicle."

Jimmy flushed at the intimation and stammered excuse, "Well…that is…Ben was on watch so…and you know, for your information, we don't spend all our time together. We have other things to do, other people we want to hang out with."

"Uh-huh," Maggie replied, unconvinced. She leaned back on her palms and tipped her head to one-side, staring interestedly at Jimmy, "You two aren't fighting are you?"

Jimmy sighed, tugging his sleeves absently over his hands as he shivered from the cold. He absently chewed his inner cheek and mumbled, "No."

"Jimmy…" Maggie gently chastised.

"We're not," Jimmy insisted, meeting her calm gaze and telling her, "Everything is fine…" he dropped his eyes, smiling faintly, and flustered, admitted in a low voice, "He called me his…'boyfriend'…"

"Big day," Maggie teased, grinning broadly. Jimmy scowled somewhat, rolling his eyes and Maggie reached out to ruffle his hair fondly, "That's good. Really, Jimmy. I'm proud of you."

"Weird thing to be proud of," Jimmy noted, re-straightening his hair after Maggie pulled her hand back and dropped it to her lap. She smirked at him.

"Maybe. I am, though. You deserve it. The both of you," she told him earnestly. She tugged his sleeve slightly and said, "Come over here a minute."

"Why?" Jimmy wondered, perking a brow, but following the instruction nonetheless, sliding over closer to Maggie. She draped her arm over his shoulders and gave him a gentle squeeze that warmed throughout him and caused an odd pang in his heart. He flashed momentarily on his mother, dead many months now and possibly decomposed to sun-bleached bone on his family's veranda, and subconsciously leaned into the embrace.

Maggie rubbed Jimmy's arms vigorously a moment, until feeling came back to them, and satisfied, remarked, "There. Better?"

"I guess," Jimmy grumbled answer, and he did feel better. A lot better.

Maggie released him and he hastily shifted away from her, not that she took notice, her gaze trained on the distance, watching people rising for the day and bustling around camp to do whatever needed doing. Jimmy smoothed out his shirt a moment, and glanced at Maggie a few times.

"Have you ever…had a…boyfriend?" he questioned meekly and Maggie darted a bemused look his way, smiling.

"A few, yes," she answered, a touch of laughter in her tone, "Why do you ask?"

"No reason," Jimmy shrugged. He glared at the ground, his heart pounding rapidly in his chest, and color flooding in his cheeks. "So…how did…what were they like? I mean…how were they…what did they…do?"

Maggie perked a brow at the question, "You taking a record of my past relationships?"

"No…I just…" Jimmy faltered. He folded his arms over his stomach and muttered, "Never mind."

Maggie smiled and said nothing, returning her gaze to the distance. Jimmy pouted at the ground, turning his words over in his head and chastising himself for sounding like an idiot. After a few moments, he slid off the tailgate.

"I should go," he announced, "I haven't eaten anything in a bit so…yeah." He started towards the community center but paused when Maggie called his name, turning back to her. She had her arms folded over the side of the truck bed, her chin resting atop them, her eyes locked on his.

"You don't need to do anything more than be yourself because, you know, it's not a fluke that he wants to be with you. He hasn't made a mistake, he knows who you are. Just…be there for him when he needs you…even if you're not entirely certain that he really does," Maggie whispered somberly.

Jimmy let her words sink in, then gave a short, stiff nod of his head and continued towards the community center. He grabbed a granola bar from the food stores, a few of the cooking crew merely glancing curiously at him as they prepped breakfast for the rest of the 2nd Mass. He took a few bites of the bar – it was all he could stomach – then pocketed the rest for later.

Outside, he took a few tokes off the cigarette he'd saved from the day before, as he wandered around the community center. He spotted the four unharnessed teenagers on the outskirts of camp, and his heart thudded against his chest. Roman paused to notice Jimmy, shoot him a smug look, before turning away. Jimmy followed Roman's gaze in time to glance Ben slipping into his tent. Jimmy finished off his cigarette and tossed it away, darting a pointedly dark glower Roman's direction, then shoving his hands in his pockets and stalking towards the tent.

When Jimmy entered through the tent flap, Ben was in the middle of changing shirts. He spun round, surprised and bare chested and Jimmy flushed, dropping his gaze. Okay, that wasn't going to be distracting.

Then Jimmy faltered, as the image before him fully processed he darted his eyes back up to Ben. The other boy was attempting to hastily pull on a shirt but paused when he realized Jimmy's staring, a deer caught in headlights. Several heartbeats thundered by and Ben lowered his face, his features somber.

"What is that?" Jimmy demanded, glaring pointedly at the bandage strapped to Ben's waist and up along his backside.

"Nothing…" Ben started.

"That's a lot of bandaging for nothing," Jimmy spat, "When the hell did this happen?"

"I…uh…" Ben fumbled for explanation and Jimmy felt his every stammered word like a bullet in the chest. Searching for an appropriate lie, it seemed, "Skitter…yesterday…on the op…I uh…had a run in and…it got me, so…"

"Right," Jimmy whispered bitterly, "Skitter. On the op."

"Yeah," Ben murmured confirmation.

Jimmy folded his arms over his stomach, twisting and turning disgustedly. He chewed his inner cheek and trailed his gaze over the ground, lingering a moment on the duffle by Ben's feet where Ben had dropped his original shirt. Jimmy closed his eyes and took a deep breath, a shudder in his heart.

"Where are you just getting back from?" he quietly asked, the words like barbs in his mouth, "I thought your watch ended hours ago."

"Yeah…it did," Ben mumbled, slipping his shirt on fully and turning his back to Jimmy, kneeling to zip his duffle securely closed, "I…uh…looked for you. After I got off watch. Couldn't find you, figured you were sleeping in the center, so…I…um…slept a bit then…got up early and went for a walk."

"Oh," Jimmy mouthed, shaking his head at the ground. He couldn't help wondering where the lie was in that sentence, was it only the "walk" part, or did Ben even really bother looking for him? His heart ached, and he swallowed back a small sob in his throat, if Ben had really wanted to find him, it shouldn't have been that difficult, "I was outside…actually. In one of the trucks…the bed."

"Really?" Ben stood up again and turned slightly towards Jimmy, his brow wrinkled momentarily in concern as he wondered, "Why?" Then he smirked and Jimmy winced, a brief flush of anger heating his face when Ben teased, "Were you waiting for me?"

"No. Why the fuck would I do that?" Jimmy snapped.

Ben flinched, reeling away again and glaring at the ground. Jimmy bit his cheek hard until the gum tore and blood spilled into his mouth and still he drove his teeth into the tender flesh, digging out the pain. He thought about his earlier ruminations, all the decisions he had made about how he would handle this very confrontation: _just ask him_.

"Ben," Jimmy started heatedly, forcing the name out between clenched teeth and Ben tensed visibly, as if bracing himself for a harsh thrashing, and suddenly, strangely, glaring at the other boy waiting across the tent for the world to crash around him, Jimmy felt his anger giving out.

Despite the darkness of the tent, and the fact that he could barely see clear a few inches in front of his face, Jimmy could still see – or perhaps it was only in his mind's eye – those spikes along Ben's spine: jagged, horrific, yet, beautiful only because they were in him.

_What'd he do to deserve you're unwavering trust_, Roman had asked and for a terrible moment, Jimmy had been so caught up in the question that he had forgotten, _what had he done to not_?

Wasn't this the same person that only a few weeks ago had lay beside Jimmy naked and exposed, their souls spread bare in a storage closet full of sporting equipment? Jimmy had shown Ben the darkest parts of his heart, the blood that stained his hands, and Ben could've shoved Jimmy away, reviled him the way a normal person should, but Ben hadn't hesitated even for a second to kiss Jimmy in that moment, to tell Jimmy – to vow – that he would make the world a better place, if only for them and them alone.

For Ben, there was no choice about who could see the darkness in him; hell, it was drilled into his spinal column and protruding from his flesh for every prying eye to see but Jimmy had a choice to push Ben away, to revile him for it, and every day, every moment of every day, Jimmy knew Ben prepared for Jimmy to decide he couldn't stand the darkness anymore.

_Be there for him_, Maggie had advised. That was Jimmy's role now, wasn't it? To support Ben. It was all the other boy had asked the day before, for support. And though Jimmy's arm throbbed, as if trying to remind him that there were darker things, Jimmy pushed the pain from his mind and resigned himself to the somber aching in his body.

"…how was watch?" Jimmy concluded, murmuring question. The squeeze in his chest tightened as Ben relaxed, his muscles loosening and he released his bated breath. Ben turned to Jimmy, smiled though it didn't quite reach his eyes, and Jimmy vaguely smiled in return.

"It was alright," Ben answered silently, and then with a distant grin, he rolled his eyes and said, "Val has an Aunt Dorie. She's dead. Not from the invasion, of course."

"Of course," Jimmy whispered. He was struggling to breathe again, to slide back into the familiar exchange, to get back to the place where he felt comfortable conversing easily with the other boy.

Ben had lied to Jimmy, true, and he had been lying for who knew how long. But the lies were small, and Jimmy knew what the lies were covering. Wasn't that enough? That he know the truth, even if not from Ben's lips? Knowing the truth was all that really mattered, so for now, Jimmy would let Ben have his lies. They seemed important to Ben.

So why did Jimmy feel like he was being torn in two?

"She had cancer," Ben continued, absently running his hand across the back of his neck, careful of the spikes there, "And a lot of wigs, apparently."

Jimmy nodded, eyes wandering around the tent floor, barely registering the words. He didn't notice when Ben crossed the tent towards him, looking up when the other boy's hand ghosted his shoulder, to meet concern shivering in clouded doe eyes.

"You okay?" Ben questioned, an obvious fear underlining his features.

"Yeah, why?" Jimmy whispered return.

"Because this is usually where you add some sarcastic comment about how Valerie never shuts up," Ben noted, dropping his eyes to their feet and shoving his hands in his pockets. Jimmy hesitated, heart thundering and stomach flipping inside out, he reached a hand forward to furl in Ben's shirt front, leaning into him and pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"I'm just tired," Jimmy replied. It was a partial lie, but what did it matter. What was one more lie between them?

"How's your arm?" Ben wondered, a small, almost imperceptible quake of shame in the words. He twitched, as though to reach for the aforementioned appendage, but halted, and shoved his wayward hand in his pocket instead. Ben's reluctance stung, almost as much as the remaining injury of his earlier, unintended violence.

"I told you before, it's fine," Jimmy muttered, another lie like another penny in the well of wishes for better tomorrows. His arm hurt unbearably, he was certain it was bruised to the bone. He placed another kiss on Ben's lips and whispered, "What'd you think I'm made of? Glass? You didn't even leave a mark, asshole. Stop worrying about it."

And maybe this was what it really meant to care for someone, to be their significant other. To exchange lies with them, out of support, out of a desire to protect, to make the other happy. His mother had always done it, one little lie after another to his father, and he'd never understood it until that moment. Hell, he used to hate it, why wouldn't she just tell the old man the truth; it would certainly have made him happier. But it made them, his mother and father, happy together.

The lies between them.

Ben wrapped an arm round Jimmy's waist and dragged him into a more passionate kiss. It almost felt as though Ben were trying to say something with that kiss but Jimmy couldn't grasp its meaning, all he knew was that it broke his already crumbling resolve.

"Did you want to lie down?" Ben questioned gently and Jimmy perked a brow.

"Not even ten minutes, you perv…" Jimmy growled and Ben gaped, paling slightly and loosening his hold on Jimmy.

"That's not what I meant," Ben stammered excuse, his cheeks coloring, "You said you were tired."

Jimmy sighed, shaking his head and then sinking against Ben. He wrapped his arms up around Ben's shoulders and buried his face in the crook of Ben's neck, breathing in that scent of citrus and pine, reveling in the warmth and closeness and letting it soothe away all his sorrows and insecurities. How had he let himself, for even one moment, doubt this person? This was Ben. Ben, who he trusted explicitly with his heart, his body, his soul. Ben, who would never, _never_, hurt him.

At least, not intentionally, anyway.

"You're in a weird mood," Ben softly noted.

Jimmy flushed, hastily stumbling away and shoving his hands in pockets. Yeah, this was Ben, the dork who could ruin any moment in ten words or less.

"Sorry…I was just…" Jimmy fumbled for an explanation, found none, so fell silent and glared at the ground, muttering grumpily, "Shut the hell up."

"And you're back to normal," Ben mumbled teasingly. He netted a hand behind Jimmy's neck, dragging him into another kiss and admitting, "I like when you're being weird. Of course…" he pressed another kiss to Jimmy's mouth, and another, dotting them between words in that sumptuous way he always did when he wanted to infuriate Jimmy with the disgustingly sweet sentimentality of the moment, "I also like…when you're being…normal…or maybe I just…" he parted their lips and dove his tongue in, pulling Jimmy close and drawing out a whimpered moan, then relaxed against Jimmy's mouth and murmured, "…like you."

"Shit…Ben…I got to go," Jimmy choked out, desperate for air, even as his hands slipped beneath Ben's shirt, searching out the warm, tender feel of bare flesh, and he moved his head aside, allowing Ben's mouth access to his throat and collar. His head was too hot to form rational thoughts.

"Hell you do," Ben growled against Jimmy's neck, guiding the not-very-resistant boy further into the tent.

Jimmy twirled his fingers around those numerous spikes along Ben's spine. There was a sensual aspect to them that Ben had never verified in so many words, but his reaction to their being touched was obvious, it increased the fervor of his affections, heightened his arousal and Jimmy, in his own way, liked the feel of those horrid metal obtrusions almost as much. It was a cold, jarring reminder that he was the only one that could get so close to that part of Ben.

Ben slid his arms under Jimmy's shirt and started to remove it but Jimmy struggled against the action, shaking his head in a firm protest and the rejection scrawled across Ben's face a confused heartache.

"…have to be quick…" Jimmy hastily explained, kissing Ben almost apologetically as he dragged the other boy's hands out from under his shirt and down towards his hardening erection.

Ben worked at the trouser buttons and Jimmy momentarily wrapped his arms around Ben's neck, burying his face against warm, musky skin that made his heart flutter and breath labored, to hide the troubles that wrinkled his own brow. Jimmy couldn't let Ben see that black mark he'd inadvertently left behind, Ben struggled enough with the 2nd Mass's and his own qualms of what that harness had done to him without that visual confirmation that, yes, he most certainly was someone to be feared.

Jimmy slid his hands down along Ben's front to work at Ben's own trouser buttons and zipper, while pressing a firm kiss to Ben's mouth, slipping his tongue in to gently explore and tease every inch of that bittersweet orifice, dragging out the most erotic noises from the other boy. Ben managed to undo the buttons on Jimmy's trousers and was working at the zipper while Jimmy still struggled to prioritize between kissing and undressing.

"Oops."

Instantly, Ben and Jimmy broke apart; gasping for air and attempting, failing, to look innocent about it. Jimmy only glanced the small boy standing, gaping, at the tent entrance, before spinning around to quickly hide his arousal and the fact his trousers weren't entirely done up and his face was bright red, and for crying out loud, didn't anyone ever knock these days. Sure, the tent had no door but that was no excuse. There had to be a better way to announce your presence than a fucking "oops".

"Shit, Matt, what have I told you about just walking in here?" Ben roared, clearly sharing Jimmy's illogical thought pattern about knocking on door-less tents. Matt baulked at the force in his brother's words, taking a small step backwards and cowering slightly near the tent entrance.

"I didn't know," Matt attempted, darting glances between the older boys, "You weren't here…before…so…"

"Well I'm here now," Ben snapped.

"I should go," Jimmy whispered, having redone his trouser buttons and straightened himself. His cheeks were still flushed, he could feel the warmth in them, but the cool air outside and distance from this incredibly mortifying incident would take care of that.

"Wait, Jimmy…" Ben protested, "I need to talk to you about…"

"Later," Jimmy promised, starting for the tent flap. Matt was chewing his bottom lip, a book clutched in his arms, obviously borrowed from his brother's stash. There was an anger growing in his features and Jimmy paused a moment at that startlingly hard lined young face.

"This is all of our tent, Ben, not just yours," Matt complained, "And if I tell Hal Jimmy was here and what you two were doing, you'll be in so much trouble."

Jimmy blanched, air knocked clean from his lungs and slamming hard into his teeth. Forget leaving, there was no amount of distance that was going to cool his head now, and more importantly, he sensed he might suddenly need to keep Ben from murdering his little brother.

"Go ahead and tell Hal, you really think I care," Ben growled response.

Jimmy drew his breath in deep, let it out in a trembling, stirring rage; or he might need to murder Ben.

"Matt," Jimmy started sharply and the little boy flinched, darting a frightened, deer-in-headlights look up at the other boy.

"You're not my brother, you can't yell at me," Matt quickly, quietly informed Jimmy.

"I'm not going to yell," Jimmy replied, glancing down at the boy, "Just wanted to say, you're right. Ben can't be mad at you because I and he never should have been in the tent doing…what we were doing."

"What?" Ben cried, then protested, "Jimmy…"

"Shut up, Ben," Jimmy grumbled, and then turning his attention back to a dubious looking Matt, he said earnestly, "This tent belongs to you and your brothers and you should be able to come and go as you please. There's no reason to bring Hal into this, because Ben's going to apologize."

"The hell I am," Ben hissed. Jimmy shot him a look of warning and he winced, lowering his eyes and appearing somewhat abashed.

"You _are_ going to apologize," Jimmy steadily informed Ben, a glint of threat in his eye, "And then you're going to go hang out with your little brother because you have free time right now and because eventually you're going to want to spend free time with me and, I don't know…I might not be available..."

Matt folded his arms over his chest and smirked at Ben, appearing very much like the cat that caught the bird. It seemed he had figured out with ease what exactly was at stake for his brother.

"Well, Ben?" Matt prompted smugly.

Ben glared heatedly at Jimmy as he stiffly mumbled response, "Sorry I yelled at you, Matt. Why don't we go do something?"

"We could play chess," Matt suggested cheerfully.

"Okay, cool. You guys go play chess. I seriously have to go," Jimmy said, starting away, "We'll talk later, Ben."

"Fine," Ben muttered. He seemed more put-out about the prospect of spending a few hours with his younger brother than Jimmy thought he ought to be, and for a moment, Jimmy felt a pang of guilt at having manipulated the other boy like that, but realized, once upon a time ago he would've felt the same in such a situation, and with a hollow ache in his chest, he knew that deep down, whether aware or not, Ben appreciated it.

Jimmy pushed the tent flap open and started to exit.

"Aren't you going to kiss Ben good-bye?" Matt piped question, and both older boys froze, giving him twin bewildered expressions. Matt glanced nonchalant between them, noting, "Our mom and dad always kissed each other good-bye. It's what you're supposed to do."

Ben and Jimmy exchanged a look, flustered, hearts pounding. Matt watched them expectantly. His eyes on them like a scalding hot iron branding them with his own childish view of intimacy. It seared Jimmy, licked like fire in his veins and chest, smothering him and making it hard to breath.

_Mom and dad…_Matt had said, is that what he compared Ben and Jimmy to, as if they were playing house.

And what were they playing? Jimmy scoffed, 'boyfriend', he still didn't know what it meant. Ben took a step towards him, as though advancing for that obligatory kiss and hastily Jimmy spun on heel, slipping from the tent without another word or thought to how his reaction might have stung the other boy.

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A/N: Right, so there we have the reason why Jimmy never made it out to visit Ben on watch and hence, why last chapter was mainly Valerie rambling on and on about her dead aunt. Also, Jimmy reacts to the "lying" and...yeah...maybe not exactly what anyone expected. I didn't really like the ending paragraphs of this, the odd contemplation about Matt's "mom and dad" comment, mainly this chapter was meant to illustrate that Jimmy really has no fucking clue what he's doing.

Anyhow, I hope you all enjoyed. Please review, let me know what you think!

Reviewers: SassySavanna190, I'm glad I'm not the only one Val makes laugh. Yes, Roman is...something. And Karen...you know, I'm a little biased on that because I actually like the actress that plays here, Jesse Schram, and I didn't really see many of the episodes where she got really creepy, but I do love Maggie a lot. JDMlvr1, hehe, that sounds like quite a video. Yeah, poor Valerie is trying very hard to flirt and poor Ben is trying very hard to ignore it and not have to directly reject her. IcicleLilly, last chapter was mainly meant as food for thought. Sorry you didn't enjoy the Valerie rambling though, maybe you enjoyed this chapter more? :) Cookie97, it's not bad, she makes me laugh too. Jimmy should see that Ben is lost, but he doesn't, and Ben isn't exactly in a rush to tell him. It is all very sad. Checkout Metrics (Checkyourmetrics?), thank you! Nine hours of trig? Criminy! Glad my story could help ease the pain. You know, people are going to think I'm sick for saying this, but I actually love math. Not because I'm good at it by any means, just because, you really have to appreciate the intrinsic beauty of it all. Anyhow, there was a bit of Ben/Jimmy romance in this chapter, but there's a lot planned in later chapters of course, so don't worry. WhisperMaw, two reviews two chapters in a row! This was a good weekend. You know, it is a lot worse when the guy likes another girl. At least when the problem is that he likes a guy, you can comfort yourself with the knowledge that it really is him and not you. But when it's another girl, you can doubt yourself with the horrifying thought of, "What's so wrong with me?", answer is usually absolutely nothing. Fun advice for the future: guys are not actually as picky as everyone likes to think. One of the boys slip up with a girl...hm...not completely far-fetched. Anything can happen in a sci-fi story. And the "killed your dog" line, I wrote it, realized what I wrote, then left it in for you, 'cause I knew you'd get a kick out of it. My Thanksgiving was awesome, thank you! I hope yours was as well! Haley, missed you last chapter. Yes, Val is a character. Roman is one of your faves? Aww...I'm glad to hear it! Hope you enjoyed this chapter just as much as last, if not more!

Right, see you all Thursday! I have to go smog my car...


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: Tired...aced my mid-term for Anth441, I may be looking at all A's and one B this semester depending on how I do on my finals, kind of psyched about that, and only two more weeks of classes left, psyched about that too. Then I have a couple weeks off, then its back for more classes!

A heartfelt thank you to the reviewers, you guys make my world go round.

And a big thank you for Greg, still managing to get me edits despite his busy weekend out of town.

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XVII.

The range wouldn't be cleared for the four unharnessed teenagers to being training until noon, so instead Jimmy went over rifle cleaning. It brought them back to day one and field stripping, but he gave them each a gun this time – showing them how to clear the chambers as he handed them off – and then let them follow along as he took apart a rifle and demonstrated the delicate task of cleaning out the inner workings.

"When you're a full-fledged fighter, you'll get a rifle of your own that you'll keep with you at all times," Jimmy explained, passing the bottle of lube around the room as he spoke, "You'll be expected to keep it clean and in working order. If you don't maintain your weapon, it can jam on you in battle and then…well…you're dead."

"This stuff is disgusting," Gia complained, making a face as some of the lubricant spurted over her fingers and hand.

"You know, I really feel like you should have bought us drinks before pulling out lube," Douglas joked and Roman smirked at him, while Gia smacked his shoulder warningly, wiping the lubricant off her hand onto his sleeve in the process.

"Ah…Gee…this is my good shirt," Douglas whined and Gia stuck her tongue out at him.

Jimmy just rolled his eyes and then looked curiously to Kelsey. She sat quietly in the corner, her rifle was in pieces but she had yet to actually work on it. She had her chin propped in a palm and gazed blankly out the window. Jimmy crossed the room to her and waved a hand in her face to gain her attention. She peered up at him inquisitively.

"Come on, Kelsey, I know it's boring, but you have to know how to do this," Jimmy said gently.

"What's going to happen?" Kelsey returned and Jimmy quirked a brow, confused as to her meaning, he'd been over the dangers of not caring for your weapon, but she further elucidated, "Now that the mission to destroy the alien structure has been cancelled?"

Jimmy perked a brow, "How did you…"

The others straightened interestedly, their eyes locked on Jimmy and he glanced around the room at them then took a step back and shoved his hands in his pockets. 'How did they know', he stupidly asks as if he couldn't easily figure that one out. It was the same way Ben always knew what people said about him around camp.

Jimmy's heart thundered in his chest, and he was well aware that all four of those teenagers could hear that as well, which made him a tad self-conscious. It didn't make sense to him, why were they letting him in on their abilities? Was it as Weaver predicted, they thought they could trust him because of his relationship with Ben? Or was there another reason? One he wasn't privy to knowing yet, one he may not ever want to know?

"Nothing, nothing is going to happen," Jimmy replied quietly, "We're just going to focus on the move now."

"We're always running," Kelsey noted, her eyes dropping solemnly to the rifle pieces scattered in front of her.

Jimmy wasn't sure how to respond. On one hand, he agreed, he hated that they never struck back against the aliens, but on the other hand, he understood the practicality of Weaver's call to pull back. Of course, he was also a little biased as going through with the attack had meant Ben would undoubtedly be the one running blind into the battlefield.

"You know, the plan wouldn't have been cancelled if it weren't for your stupid razorback, brat," Roman commented, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands behind his head. Jimmy darted a fervid glance to the older boy, biting on his inner cheek and balling his hands instinctively into fists.

"What the hell are you talking about? Ben had nothing to do with that decision," Jimmy argued, "He tried to convince Weaver to go through with the attack but Dai thought it was too dangerous."

"Not the way I hear," Roman replied casually, a smug sneer on his lip, and Jimmy understood his intended meaning, Roman heard the truth firsthand, he didn't 'hear' the 'truth' from Ben. The others watched on amusedly and Jimmy struggled to match Roman glare for glare, but he flustered from the heated attentions and the implied meaning in the other boy's words, having to drop his gaze to gather his wits, as Roman revealed, "He slipped off during the op…stole away from the others, same as he steals away in the night. Off to meet with the Skitter enemy. They cancelled the mission because they don't trust him."

Jimmy bit too hard on his cheek, wincing. He was sure his stomach had fallen out, spilled over the floor. He tried to give Roman nothing, but he could feel himself squirming, and that self-satisfied smirk on the older boy's face was more than enough confirmation that he'd had some evident outward reaction to that new information.

"Of course, you didn't know about that," Roman persisted, "Because he didn't tell you. Another lie. It's a shame; really…all he ever does is lie to you."

"Shut up," Jimmy murmured, hating how weak his words sounded, "If he didn't tell me about it, that doesn't make it a lie. It just didn't come up. Weaver didn't cancel the mission because he doesn't trust Ben; he cancelled it because it was the right thing to do. We had no clue what was waiting down there…"

"After two days of recon, how the hell could we know?" Douglas bit out, and Jimmy flinched, shaking his head furiously at them.

"Dai and Hal and Pope have enough experience in planning battles that they're more than capable of making a call like that based off just a few _hours_ of recon. Two days is more than enough time for any one of them to read a situation like that," Jimmy returned, not entirely certain how truthful he was being and not caring in the least, "And I'm sure if Ben took off during the mission, he had his reasons. Did you overhear _that_, by any chance, his reasons? Or do you even care?"

"Do _you_ care?" Roman shot back, "Tell us, brat, what are his reasons. Why does he sneak off in the night to visit Skitters and come back with lies about strolls around the perimeter? What did he tell you when you asked him about it?"

Jimmy scowled, remained silent, glaring hard at the floor. He couldn't exactly confess to them that he knew what Ben snuck off to do at night. They might feel they can tell them their dark-alien secret, but he definitely knew he couldn't trust them with any of his or Ben's secrets.

"He said nothing, huh?" Roman barked out harsh laughter, "Because you didn't ask, right? Your blind faith in him is disgustingly stupid, brat, you should know that."

"It's not blind," Jimmy protested, he paced away from the group and muttered, "I don't understand why you hate him so much. I mean, how can you talk about him like that, shouldn't you be a little more understanding. You're the same-"

There was a shrill shriek of Roman's chair scraping across the tiled floor, and before Jimmy had a chance to even realize that the other boy was on the move, Roman had grabbed Jimmy by the shoulder and jerked him violently back around so that they stood facing one another, mere inches between them.

"I will only tell you this one more time. He and I are not the same," Roman seethed.

Jimmy flinched back involuntarily from the force of Roman's tone. He dropped his eyes from the other boy, flustered from the hard glare, swirling something sinister and violent, which bore down on him, and discomforted by the close proximity. He didn't like the way the other boy seemed to overwhelm his senses, a blistering heat rolling off that well-toned frame, a spicy scent like anise and saffron overpowering, soaking into Jimmy's very being.

"No," Jimmy conceded between grit teeth, turning up his blue eyes, their chill piercing through copper, "You're right. Ben's not a macho-freak asshole."

"Better than being a Skitter-hybrid," Roman bit out.

"Isn't that _exactly_ what you _are_?" Jimmy returned plaintively.

He barely had time to register the strike when he suddenly found himself stumbling towards the ground. He caught himself before toppling completely, his ears ringing and eyes blurred with fresh sprung tears, and recovered in time to partially dodge the full-force of Roman's next swing.

Jimmy reeled to the side and back a few paces, instincts taking over at the kick of adrenaline in his veins, he pushed a desk between himself and Roman, used the obstacle to maneuver to Roman's left side, and attempted to twist the older boy into an arm lock he'd learned from Dai awhile back.

Unfortunately, Jimmy didn't have the leverage to execute it, and ended up tackled onto the ground where he knew, regrettably, he stood little chance of succeeding over the older, much larger, much stronger boy.

Regardless, Jimmy fought hard; jabbing at Roman's face and throat every opportunity he had while trying to keep the other boy from landing any substantial hits on him. It helped that Roman's strikes were sloppy, uncoordinated, and guided by sheer force of rage alone.

Jimmy cursed the ache in his shoulder and sting in his thigh; both injuries were bothering him enough to hinder his struggle. Roman managed to clop Jimmy across the brow, but despite the near-loss of consciousness from the well-placed hit, Jimmy was somehow able to scramble out from under the boy and sink a foot in his gut.

Roman doubled over and Jimmy used the last of his strength to swing out his leg and knock Roman across the head, effectively dropping the other boy.

Jimmy shuffled backwards several paces from the unconscious Roman, in a semi-crab-walk across the floor, never taking his eyes off the limp form, and pressing his back against the wall, struggling to catch his breath. His heart raced in his chest, adrenaline pumped viciously through his veins. He could taste blood filling his mouth and his head throbbed horribly. Out of the corner of his eyes he could see the other three teens gaping at him wide-eyed, as equally stunned as he was that he had somehow proved the victor in that fight.

After several seconds passed, Jimmy climbed shakily to his feet and, without a single word or glance to the other teens, he strode from the room.

…

Ben watched Matt slide pieces across the chessboard, smiling lightly. They had been playing the same game for the past half-hour, and even though he could beat his younger brother in five moves – it was four his last turn and seven the turn before that – he kept intentionally moving nonessential pieces, prolonging the game.

As much as Ben would have liked to finish his morning encounter with Jimmy, part of him was vaguely pleased that things turned out this way. He hadn't sat down to a game of chess in weeks, and he hadn't spent more than a span of five minutes with Matt in about as long.

His turn over, Matt rest his chin in the palm of his hand and looked up expectantly at his older brother. Ben made a show of pondering his next move, even though he'd already planned it three moves prior.

"I'm sorry," Matt murmured and Ben furrowed his brow, and then perked it at the younger boy.

"For?" he prompted.

"Walking into the tent," Matt answered. He lowered his eyes and sheepishly confessed, "I lied before. I saw you coming back to camp," he folded an arm across the table and dropped his head to it, whispering in a muffled voice, "And I saw Jimmy go in too…"

Ben remained silent a moment, glaring at the chessboard and letting his anger ripple through him. He clenched and unclenched his jaw, closing his eyes and drawing in a deep breath.

"Why would you do that?" Ben demanded, "If you knew we were in there, why would you…"

"Because I didn't want Jimmy in the tent," Matt snapped.

Ben flinched, narrowing his eyes on his younger brother, feeling a strange kind of hurt by that admission, like a yawning soreness in his chest and head. Matt had always espoused how much he liked Jimmy; the other boy was kind to him, hung out and played games with him on occasion. It didn't make sense that he would want Jimmy banned from the tent.

"What? Why?" Ben wondered brazenly.

"I don't know," Matt whimpered, petulant, pouting at the chessboard and pressing, "I just don't want him in there. It's not his tent. It's our tent."

"Right now it's my tent and I want him in there, so he can come in whenever he wants," Ben argued, "And next time you know he's there, stay out. In fact, just stay out all the time. Don't come in the tent ever."

"But Hal said…" Matt whined.

"I don't care what Hal said. You and Hal can sleep in the community center, I can't," Ben growled, "So at the very least, leave me the tent."

"You can sleep in the community center too. Nobody said you can't," Matt persisted, straightening and folding his arms over his chest as he spat out, "Everyone thinks you're a freak because you act like one, it's not just because of those things in your back."

Ben opened his mouth, no sound came out, so he clamped it shut again. He gaped at Matt, uncertain of how to feel, how to even go about feeling. He wasn't entirely sure if that was his younger brother's true thoughts on the subject or if someone had told him that, but it didn't matter. It stung like a knife slipped between his shoulder blades all the same.

"It wouldn't be so bad if you just acted normal," Matt went on, his voice low and shaky with an uneven faith.

"This is my normal now, Matt," Ben whispered, "I know it's hard to understand, but I can't just go back to being who I was. I'm not that person anymore."

"Why?" Matt cried, "You're still you. You still like playing chess and reading all the same books…"

"Yeah," Ben agreed, "But just because some things are still the same with me, Matt, that doesn't mean that nothing has changed. I can't act the way that I used to because that isn't who I am anymore. I'm different." He closed his eyes and shook his head, explaining softly, "Everyone thinks I'm a freak because I _am_ a freak."

"That's not true," Matt said, but there wasn't much conviction in his words, which hurt Ben in its own special way. Even as Matt seemed intent on arguing that Ben could be normal, that he wasn't the freak everyone proclaimed him to be, it was evident Matt didn't believe it to be true anymore than the next 2nd Mass-er.

Ben sighed, glaring again at the chessboard and all his strategically positioned pieces. He couldn't even change clothes, or at the very least, be shirtless in front of his own brothers anymore. Although Hal would pretend not to look at the spikes protruding from Ben's spine, in that pointed effort, he accomplished making Ben feel exactly the rejected emotion he had been attempting to avoid. Matt, on the other hand, wouldn't stand to be in the same room with the exposed spikes. He didn't like seeing them, they frightened him. Sometimes Ben caught Matt staring at the ones visible along the base of his neck, wide eyes shimmering with uncontained fear. Fear of what they stood for, fear of the possibilities, just plain, unadulterated fear. That simple expression on his younger brother's face, for Ben, was more painful than anything any of the other members of the 2nd Mass could ever say about him.

For a fleeting moment, Ben flashed on Jimmy's fingers twined around those metal rods, strumming along them like the strings of an instrument as he played every erotic note to perfection. He wondered what Jimmy would say, were he sitting there, would he agree that Ben was a freak and nothing could be done about it or would he side with Matt, agreeing that all Ben had to do was forget the harness and what it had done to him and return to being that gawky, four-eyed geek that played chess like a master and took the long way to class to avoid getting beat-up at school. In a peculiar twist of his heart, Ben wasn't sure which side he would want Jimmy to take.

"When we find dad, will he be different too?" Matt wondered quietly and Ben blinked back from his musings and refocused on the younger boy.

"What?" He had heard the question, but he wasn't sure he understood it.

"The aliens took dad alive," Matt elucidated, "Which means they wanted him alive, right? They must have wanted him so they could do something to him. That's why they take kids alive, so they can harness them. But they don't harness adults, so they're probably doing something else to him."

"Yeah, I guess," Ben murmured. He hadn't spent much time musing on what the aliens wanted their father for, most of his thoughts on the subject went to elaborate plans of rescue that always proved to be little more than wishful daydreams. It was a tad disturbing to hear his younger brother working out such complex, if not slightly macabre, hypotheses. Matt used to need their mother to explain the intricacies of a Pokémon episode.

"Do you think they have harnesses for adults? Can they even harness adults?" Matt asked.

"I don't know," Ben answered, he furrowed his brow and leaned forward on the table, his elbows propped against the edge, "Biologically, adults aren't that different from children…and they've taken teenagers as old as seventeen, which is well passed puberty, we've seen them."

Matt wrinkled his brow, some of the words clearly stumped him, but he seemed interested and his musings had kicked Ben's mind into gear. Suddenly Ben found himself postulating on ideas he had never before considered, though now that he reflected on them, it seemed incredibly remiss of him to overlook their possibilities, when the him before never would have made such a grievous mistake.

"But the harnesses probably work on a neurological level. It might be easier to influence brain function in a brain that's still developing," Ben continued, "Neural networks are still mapping themselves out, it makes sense that the harness can more readily deter synapses pathways that are newer or just beginning to form.

"Of course, in adults synapses are always breaking down and rebuilding themselves anyways, so it can't be that difficult. It makes more sense that their preference for children in harnessing has less to do with adults being harder to control and more to do with the genetic manipulations the harness makes on the host body," Ben went on, rubbing a hand over his feverish forehead as the rapidly developing thoughts spilled unbidden from his mouth, the feeling was almost akin to the rush of adrenaline that kicked through his veins and begged him to hunt and kill except this was a different kind of rush, that flowed into his head and spilled from his mouth, "It might be difficult – if not impossible – for the aliens to make alterations to fully developed human bodies. They're amping up our senses, our physical capabilities, certain phenotypic changes need to follow suit to allow for such drastic changes in our genetics, and otherwise, our bodies wouldn't be able to handle it. Adults probably can't handle the alterations at all…"

"Uh…Ben…" Matt interrupted.

"Not now, Matt, I'm thinking," Ben muttered, continuing in his ramblings, "If the problem with harnessing adult humans is merely an incapability on their part to accept the genetic alterations, then it only stands to reason that another form of mind control, or one similar to the harnessing process, is possible…"

"Ben," Matt hissed, a little more desperately.

"And from what we've seen so far of the aliens' technology, it would further stand to reason that they would definitely have the capability of controlling the minds of adult humans in a much similar fashion to how they control the minds of children, but because the process should or would be less labor intensive as the genetic altering process, its logical to assume that whatever device is used to control an adult's mind could be less evident than the harness," Ben concluded, snorting softly and shaking his head as he realized, "So it's true that dad might not be the same if…_when_…we find him, and, furthermore, we might not know right away. What did you want, Matt?"

"Everyone is staring at you," Matt pointed out in a low, harsh whisper.

Ben flustered, glancing quickly around the room to confirm his brother's words. The handful of people in the room had paused in their own activities, playing various board or card games, to stare unabashedly, if not somewhat anxiously, at the suddenly and fervidly perambulating youth. Ben dropped his gaze back to the chessboard, swallowed hard and moved a piece.

"Check," he whispered in a haggard tone, "Mate in two. I have to go."

Without another word, Ben stood and abruptly strode from the room. His heart was pounding erratically in his chest. Stumbling outside of the community center, he drew the crisp noon-time air into his lungs and pushed it out fiercely. His senses were all on fire, adrenaline pumped vicious through his veins. He stalked towards the perimeter of camp, energy spurting through him in short, painful bursts that begged him to do something about them.

On the edge of camp, Ben immediately broke into a steady gait, following his usual route along the perimeter. He barely felt the cool wind whipped by him, didn't think about the way his muscles languidly pumped and pulled and pushed him fluidly along his fast-paced trek. He kept his gaze set forward, expertly and almost sub-consciously evaded every scout, every patrolman, and every sentry along the way. If anyone noticed him pass by in his jog, they deserved a steak dinner.

Initially, he counted his laps around the perimeter, using the flagpole that still hoisted a tattered, slightly scorched 'Old Glory' billowing in the nippy breeze as his marker, but he lost track sometime after twenty.

It wasn't until he spotted a familiar form trekking across the street of the community center and disappearing into a cul-de-sac reminisce of Pleasantville that he stumbled to a halt. He took note of the house that figure disappeared into then trudged back to camp, cleaning himself up and changing clothes.

When Ben returned to the house, a lovely little blue two-story with white trim, he was pleased to learn the new target of his energy overdrive hadn't slipped off in his absence and was actually upstairs in one of the bedrooms. Ben grinned wolfishly, how fortuitous. He crept up the stairs and, to his delight, managed to slide unnoticed into the room, clicking the door shut to announce his arrival.

Jimmy stood and spun round in surprise, he'd been rifling through one of the bookshelves in the bedroom, his wide-eyes taking a moment to register Ben, before his features softened and body relaxed.

"Shit, Ben, what the hell? Don't sneak up on me like that, asshole," he snapped, "What are you doing here?"

"Stalking you; what are _you_ doing here?" Ben returned, staggering forward a few steps and eying the other boy with clear intent. Jimmy shrugged, shoved his hands in his pockets and features flushed, he dropped his eyes to the ground, brown strands falling to obscure his face.

"My…uh…lessons ended unexpectedly early this morning, so I asked Anthony if he needed me for anything and got assigned looting duty," Jimmy explained.

Resource Gathering or, as it was less politely referred to by some of the more tongue-in-cheek members of the 2nd Mass, 'looting duty' was exactly as its name inferred. Buildings in cleared areas, usually those that fell within the camp perimeter or near it, were sorted through for any useful items left behind by former occupants. The job was typically given to civilians, but restless fighters were assigned the task from time to time, and of the 'civilian chores' it was one of the more pleasant, with only the minor risk of running into decomposing cadavers, which was child's play compared to most of the crap fighters saw on duty.

"That sounds really boring," Ben remarked, then noted, "So…I played a game of chess with Matt for a while. I kept trying to let him win but he's not very good at it…"

"Not very good? I lost like seven times to that kid," Jimmy griped.

"Yeah, well…you're _really _not very good at chess," Ben replied cheekily and Jimmy shook his head, keeping his eyes locked on the ground, shoulders bunched up timidly, and though his stance was odd, Ben didn't really dwell on it because he was getting to the good part of his speech, "Anyhow…now _I_ have free time and _you_ have free time and I spent time with my little brother, like you wanted…" Ben faltered, his eyes narrowing on what he could see of Jimmy's face, "What the hell is that?"

Jimmy flinched, shrugging and taking a small step back when Ben descended on him, lifting his face up by the chin and examining the discoloration around his left eye and his lip, swollen and split in the corner.

"It's nothing," Jimmy muttered grumpily, begrudgingly allowing Ben to turn his face to the side for a better view. Ben brushed Jimmy's hair away, ghosting his fingers over the injury and giving Jimmy an incredulous look until he further clarified, "I got in a fight."

"With _who_?" Ben demanded hotly.

"Doesn't matter," Jimmy replied, gently pulling away and walking across the room a few steps, pausing to turn back, smirk and shrug nonchalant at Ben, "I won. So don't worry about it."

Ben stared at the other boy a moment, heart racing and senses teeming with the image of Jimmy standing there sullen and vulnerable, begging to be touched and praying not to be all at once, the thought of him overcoming his foe despite this inherent weakness, his understated strength and power, the sound of his heartbeat a flutter erratic, the soft hush of his breath, the warmth permeating from his slender body, the smell of him, salty sweet, making Ben salivate at the thought of his taste.

Ben grinned and noted, "You're amazing."

Jimmy flinched, misunderstanding the comment.

"You're an ass," he retorted sharply.

Ben sighed, shaking his head, grin never faltering as he stalked forward and dragged Jimmy into a fierce kiss. Jimmy grimaced, whimpered at the rough treatment of his wounded lip, and squirmed slightly, but Ben refused to let go, tightening his grasp, arms wrapping more securely around Jimmy's waist, and tongue diving in to find that breaking point past which lie the moans ecstatic and flustered pleas for more, and once it was found Ben relinquished his hold just briefly.

"Oh look, a bed," he humorously acknowledged before pulling Jimmy towards the aforementioned twin-sized box-mattress.

"Ben…I have a job," Jimmy attempted protest, as he gasped for air and pretended to put up a struggle against Ben's guiding hands.

"You have a job that takes ten minutes to do," Ben pointed out, as he gently pushed Jimmy back on the bed, then dropped atop him, drowning him in another kiss.

Jimmy curled his fingers in Ben's shirt, and Ben smirked at that action, glad to have finally won something with barely even the pretense of a fight, dipping his tongue in once more to garner another satisfying moan and then to trace along the bottom of Jimmy's lip. He tasted blood from Jimmy's injury and it incited a new fervor in him, as he wondered briefly who the fuck had the nerve to leave a mark on his lover, and Jimmy had to push him back a bit, grunting with pain.

"Ow," Jimmy complained, gasping desperately for air, his face flushed and brow already forming a line of sweat. He ran his tongue over the cut on his lip and winced slightly.

Meanwhile, Ben altered the focus of his attentions, dropping his mouth to Jimmy's neck and sinking his teeth in momentarily, before dragging his tongue up along the tendon and down again to Jimmy's pale collar, he had to tug the fabric away to get full access. Jimmy wriggled slightly, he was having trouble catching his breath, and he alternated between attempts at pushing Ben back and pulling him in.

"What is with you right now?" Jimmy wondered, breathlessly. Ben shrugged, lifting himself up to press a haste kiss to Jimmy's mouth.

"I don't know," he answered earnestly, "I just have all this energy…" he dropped kisses to Jimmy's cheeks, along his jawline, to the tip of his chin, and then grabbed hold of Jimmy's throat underneath, sucking at the skin insistently until Jimmy gasped and forced Ben back with both hands gripping his shoulders.

"So…your first thought was to share it with me?" Jimmy grumbled, though it took him several attempts to choke the words out in his desperate bid for air.

"Well, no…" Ben murmured earnestly, taking advantage of the break in kissing to slip his hands under Jimmy's shirt and peel the fabric up to Jimmy's chin, placing a series of kisses down his sternum, stopping just below his navel, in between admitting, "My first thought was to run like…five miles. Then I saw you, and figured I'd share."

"Fuck, Ben," Jimmy gulped at the sudden location of Ben's mouth, so much lower down on his body than it had ever been before. He frantically grabbed hold of Ben and dragged him up by the neck so that he could search Ben's eyes concernedly, "You ran _five_ miles?"

"Yeah, about," Ben shrugged, and then cheerfully quipped, "But you'll notice I showered and changed before I came here. Because I care," before grinning and dropping another firm kiss to Jimmy's mouth, but Jimmy wasn't cooperating this time, so he plunged to his favorite part of Jimmy's body, the collarbone, and thoughtfully nibbled the skin there a moment as Jimmy tried to form another sentence. Honestly, why did he want to have a conversation _now_? They could talk later!

"Well, how many miles was it?" Jimmy demanded.

"How should I know?" Ben murmured against Jimmy's skin, "However many miles twenty-something laps around the perimeter is…"

Then he slid back down for Jimmy's bare chest, pressing kisses along the way over to an exposed nipple – a _new_ favorite – which he delicately teased between his teeth and happily managed to garner the same sudden, startled reaction as his first experiment with that sensitive bit of flesh.

"Oh…jeez…Ben…" Jimmy whimpered, losing his focus a moment, as his hand furrowed in Ben's hair and his other hand rest against Ben's chest, trying to decide what it wanted to do, push or pull, as Ben used his tongue to cool the tenderness his teeth left behind.

Then Jimmy's hand made the maddening decision to push just as Ben's mouth settled in with the intent of leaving a new mark on that pale skin right above the areola.

"Ben, that's not five miles," Jimmy baulked, "That's more like _seventy_-five miles!"

"Okay, you are clearly better at math than me," Ben replied, unimpressed, shrugging as he attempted to return to his work, but Jimmy pushed him back firmly into place, concern written in grim, sullen features.

"Why does this not worry you?" Jimmy cried.

"Five miles, seventy-five miles, what difference does it make?" Ben returned, "I ran it, I'm fine, I could run it again, but why would I when you're here?"

"Ben," Jimmy groaned, "Don't you think this is something you should talk to Dr. Glass about?"

Ben sighed, growling frustration in the back of his throat and Jimmy shrunk back slightly against the mattress, causing Ben to falter and shake his head, glancing away a moment, letting the sting of that reaction wash over him for only a second before reminding himself Jimmy didn't fear him as the dreaded razorback but maybe feared him as the possibly emotionally injured lover. Not to mention, Jimmy was lying there flushed, panting and hot, and taking a moment to appreciate that image easily returned Ben to his good spirits.

"All she's going to be able to tell me is that it's a Skitter related thing," Ben reasoned, "So why would I run over to her and waste both our times for a diagnosis I can give myself: Ben Mason, you are an alien hybrid. Congratulations. Can I ravage your body now, Jimmy? Please?"

Jimmy blinked and replied harshly, "Could you _rephrase_ that?"

"No," Ben decided, shaking his head slightly, and grinning broadly, "I stand by what I said."

"You are such a dork," Jimmy muttered, then sighed and relented, "Fine. Go ahead."

"Finally," Ben murmured, mock exasperated. He captured Jimmy's mouth in a rapturous kiss, and then breathily instructed, "Lose the shirt."

"I like it on," Jimmy returned stubbornly.

"I'll work on that," Ben conceded, maneuvering down to Jimmy's exposed belly and massaging the skin there with his mouth and tongue. Jimmy squirmed and made a strangled noise in his throat, weaving his fingers through the spikes on Ben's neck.

Ben pulled himself onto his knees, straddling Jimmy and drawing him up into a partially seated position, kissing him hard and eager on the mouth. He trailed his kisses across that bruised cheek, gentle and mindful, and then he caught hold of Jimmy's ear a moment, nibbling the bottom lobe and causing a sharp intake of breath from Jimmy. Then he dotted his kisses along Jimmy's brow, and down his nose, catching his mouth again, wrapping an arm around Jimmy's shoulder and sliding his other under Jimmy's shirt around his waist, allowing Jimmy's tongue entry into his mouth so that it could sample every inch therein and set his senses on fire.

Completely enraptured in the action of exploring Ben's mouth, Jimmy failed to notice where Ben's hands had traveled and their scrupulous intentions there until it was too late and Ben swiftly removed his shirt.

"No, Ben wait," Jimmy cried, as his garment was ripped away, pulling back and placing a hand almost protectively over his arm.

Ben furrowed his brow.

"What?" he wondered, examining the other boy for a clue behind the sudden outburst. Jimmy inspected his arm a moment, but there was nothing odd about the limb that Ben could see.

"Nothing," Jimmy mumbled, his features contorted with his own confusion. He shook his head and more firmly replied, "Nothing. Forget it."

Then he hastily and in an adorably clumsy way dragged Ben back into their kiss and, simple as that, it was forgotten. Ben's shirt came off next, Jimmy's trembling hands gently peeling the fabric away, careful of the metal spikes, and then he dropped the shirt to the floor, and settled back down on the bed, pulling Ben with him, mouths locked once more.

Removing their boots was a struggle, neither really wanted to pause in kissing the other, or take their hands off the other's body, as though a moment physically detached were pure torment. But they managed, not that Ben could explain how.

Ben undid Jimmy's trousers while curled over him, mouth hot on his belly and working against the shuddering skin. Jimmy didn't allow him to linger there long though, once the buttons were undone, pushing him upright and sitting up a bit to undo Ben's own buttons and zipper, and then dragged him down by the shoulders so that they lay even with their lips pressed firmly together. Removing the rest of their garments seemed excessive, but Jimmy insisted and Ben wasn't about to argue when the other boy was demanding full nudity.

There was a blanket on the bed, something white and floral, and they slipped beneath the covers. It was new for them, to be on a bed in a bedroom underneath a blanket, and Ben paused to reflect on it, tracing a thumb along Jimmy's cheek and down his jaw, his body hot to the touch, breath soft and quick, eyes pleading for Ben to continue even if the stubborn boy would never say as much aloud.

Ben pressed a kiss to Jimmy's mouth and slipped his hand down to encircle the other boy's erection as Jimmy tentatively grasped Ben's own, and with a gentle ease, they slowly began to draw out one another's arousal, moving in time to each other, as their mouths worked in a furious kiss. Ben brushed his free hand across Jimmy's forehead, tangling in his hair. Jimmy ran his own free hand intently lengthwise up Ben's spine, weaving through the spikes and causing pleasant little shivers to race across his skin.

Jimmy climaxed first, hiding his face in Ben's shoulder as he trembled with the orgasm, and Ben soon followed, groaning blissfully against Jimmy's sweat slick skin.

They collapsed, breaking from one another a moment to slow their breath and cool their heads, then Ben wrapped his arms around Jimmy and set his chin atop Jimmy's chest, gazing up happily. Jimmy glanced down at him, smiled distantly, and closed his eyes.

They lay that way a few heartbeats, each appreciating the feel of the other boy as the tingling left behind by their orgasms slowly faded away, then Ben sighed, crawling up to press a kiss to Jimmy's mouth, which Jimmy vaguely returned. Jimmy would be out cold in a few seconds, exhausted from their act, whereas Ben was still abuzz with energy. It almost didn't seem fair, their imbalance of vigor.

Ben wrapped Jimmy in a tight embrace and buried his mouth against the crook of Jimmy's neck. Jimmy's breathing had already become light, steady, rhythmic, his body limp and leisure; he was already asleep it seemed.

Ben smiled somberly, lifting himself to push the hair from Jimmy's face and study the other boy's rested features; even in sleep he always looked so troubled.

For a moment, Ben wondered if there would come a time when Jimmy would acknowledge the obvious burden Ben's overabundance of energy was becoming.

Ben's brow collapsed together, his heart pattered wretched in his chest. He wondered if there would come a time when Jimmy, like Matt, would want him to be normal. And when, much like Matt, he couldn't give Jimmy that, normal, what would happen then?

Ben lay his cheek down against Jimmy's chest, reveling in the feel of its rise and fall with every soft breath.

For a moment, he wondered what kind of future could they really hope to have, when one of them wasn't entirely human anymore, and getting less so every day, and the other was only just.

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A/N: Split character chapter, from Jimmy to Ben perspective, fun fun! Um...this chapter has a lot of foreshadowing in it about things that are going on in the story. Also, yes, Jimmy throws punches with Roman first, I know, everyone is very disappointed...or maybe not, I don't know?

Got to hurry, need to shower.

Okie, let me know what you guys think please!

Reviewers: JDMlvr1, hehe...Matt didn't interrupt this time. SassySavanna190, tough to figure out, huh? Is it good to lie in a relationship or bad...? Is it sometimes good, or always bad? About Tom...as I've said before, this is a very LONG story. I'm on chapter 29 now and I'm still in the "beginning" of the story. Meaning, yes, _eventually_ Tom will make an appearance. FacePalmer123, yeah, I was very sad not to see a review from you. I'm glad you thought it was cute! Cookie97, yeah, Jimmy was a little sneaky, getting Ben to hang out with Matt. Bubblepuff, well, thank you, I'm glad you like my stories. Um...as for your question, the answer is both yes and no. When I write descriptions, which is very sparingly, I try to keep it true to what the actors look like in the show, but I do take a bit of a literary license and...as I've said before numerous times, I didn't really go into hardcore research mode for this story, checking and double-checking their hair color and eye color and the angles of their jaws, studying their pictures online so I could get every last detail true to the actor. Mainly because, I'm not so interested in the actors as much as I am the characters (I know, I know, _gasp_! What kind of fangirl am I? Well, I'm not a fangirl, is why...I'm a writer). So for me, the only description I really care about is Jimmy's blue eyes, because I was infatuated with them, and that's about it. I hope that answer is satisfactory, maybe? I don't know.

I got to go. Shower. Homework? Class. Work...somewhere in there should be breakfast.

See you all Sunday! Bye bye!


	18. Chapter 18

A/N: Stayed up to midnight, so figured I'd update before I went to bed. Here's the new chapter, yay!

Big thank you to the reviewers, always awesome.

And a thank you to Greg for beta-ing.

Read!

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XVIII.

When Jimmy awoke, it was to the feel of Ben heavy across him and the strong scent of that other boy mingling with his own. He lay there a moment, breathing it in, relishing in it. He opened his eyes, winced them closed from the first burst of light, and then attempted opening them again. He glanced to Ben sleeping against his shoulder and furrowed his brow in concern; it was unlike the other boy. Typically, Jimmy was the one that passed out after their sexual excursions, napping blissfully for an hour or so as Ben watched over him.

Jimmy sighed and shrugged it off. Ben did run seventy-five miles earlier after all, even for a super-human freak like him that was a lot. Jimmy checked his wristwatch and frowned, he'd slept for about forty-five minutes, and he still had three other houses to loot. He darted another look to Ben, then delicately inspected his own forearm, brow creased with confusion and interest. He prodded the skin with his fingers, wet his lips. The bruised hand-print had still been there earlier that day, a deep set black and purple that threatened weeks of healing. Not even five hours later and there was no trace of the injury.

Maybe it was for the best, Jimmy thought, letting the arm drop across his belly and gazing distantly around the strange bedroom. It would have been difficult to hide the bruise from Ben for days on end, hell, if it hadn't miraculously faded away, it would have been revealed mere moments before.

Jimmy shifted his focus to the room. He'd slept in so many new places that he was growing far too accustomed to the unfamiliar. It helped him, in a way, to try to puzzle together who the former occupant was, as though if he could envision them, then it was like he was sleeping in a friend's room and not that of some faceless, nameless, most likely dead stranger.

This room, from all appearances, once belonged to a young girl, if the Barbie dolls lining a shelf nearby, and the utter lack of boy band posters were any indication, she couldn't have been older than ten at the oldest. Jimmy frowned, closed his eyes a moment, and brought his breath in shakily.

In a way, it felt as though he were sleeping in his own little sister's room, though none of the decor befitted her, their mother had forced Cass to hang posters of cutesy forest scenes, to line her shelves with stuffed animals, filled her toy chest with baby dolls and princess regalia. Cass had been forever stealing Jimmy's toys, the model cars he'd spent tedious hours on end meticulously assembling were far more fun to play with than a plastic caricature of a baby that pissed and demanded food.

At a low murmur from Ben, Jimmy turned his head to the other boy, gazing with a soft smile. Ben had his features scrunched, his brow wrinkled, mouth forming a worried little frown. Jimmy reached out a hand with the sudden urge to stroke Ben's face, maybe, possibly ease the expression, but he hesitated, his heart kicking several times against his ribs, his breath hitched.

The spikes along Ben's spine were lit with a low blue light. All Jimmy could do was stare mesmerized, fear ebbing through his features.

Ben stirred, and the illumination down his backside died out just as suddenly as it had started. His eyes opened, and met Jimmy's stunned expression. He smiled lazily, shifted forward to press a kiss against Jimmy's shoulder, not realizing anything out of the ordinary had occurred.

"Hey," Ben murmured, and then noticing the shocked look on Jimmy's face, he furrowed his brow and wondered, "What's wrong?"

Jimmy turned his face towards the ceiling and blinked a couple times to erase the soft blue afterimage. Maybe the glow wasn't out of the ordinary, maybe Ben's spikes lit up all the time when he slept, and Jimmy just hadn't known because Ben had never really slept around him before. Or maybe Jimmy had been imagining things, maybe he was still stressed about the day before, and Ben's inexplicable roughness and wanting to blame it on the harness, that now he was looking for anything extraordinarily alien going on with the other boy. Jimmy took a couple deep breaths, training his voice into a steady candor before responding.

"Nothing…I was just…nothing," he mumbled.

"You know," Ben teased, his voice low and husky, "If you're going to start watching me sleep, you can't really complain anymore when I do it to you."

"I wasn't watching you sleep," Jimmy gruffly responded, bristling at the inclination, as he stammered, "I just happened to be looking your direction when you woke up. Because you were being loud. You snore, is all."

"Oh," Ben grinned, slinking an arm across Jimmy's waist and nuzzling his neck, "Is that all?"

"Cut it out," Jimmy complained, his face reddening. He put up a half-hearted struggle as Ben placed a few light kisses along his jawline, then relaxed once more as Ben settled against him, his heart running rampant in his chest, eyes leering out at the room.

They lay like that a few moments, quiet and unmoving, Ben like a warm blanket strewn across Jimmy's body.

"I wonder what she was like," Jimmy murmured. He felt Ben's features crinkle at the seemingly random statement.

"Who?"

"The girl that used to live here," Jimmy clarified.

"Don't do that," Ben whispered harshly. Jimmy perked a brow.

"Do what?" he returned, genuinely confused. Ben lifted himself up, meeting Jimmy's questioning eyes.

"We're having a good moment," Ben said, insistent, "Don't ruin it thinking about the war and people we can't get back."

"What am I supposed to think about, Ben, we're in a stranger's room?" Jimmy argued, glaring at the far wall painted in the corner with a vine of flowers crawling to the ceiling, "It's kind of hard not to wonder about who she might have been when I'm feeling guilty about having been jerked off in her bed."

"Eloquent," Ben muttered sarcastically, then shifting himself to a more comfortable position, he decided, "Then…I don't know…don't think about it like that. Don't think about it as a stranger's room…think about it as…well; pretend that it's our room."

"What?" Jimmy demanded, turning back to fix the other boy with a dubious expression.

Ben shrugged, grinning and meeting Jimmy's eyes, repeated, "Pretend it's our room," he propped himself up on an elbow and expanded further, "Like…our place. Pretend the aliens never invaded, and we're just lying in our bed in our home that we share."

Jimmy quirked a brow at the other boy, finding himself skeptical of Ben's sanity at that moment.

"Come on, just go with it," Ben pressed.

Jimmy rolled his eyes, and sighed.

"Okay, and would the My Little Pony poster be yours or mine?" he questioned derisively, gesturing the pastel colored pinup on the wall across from them.

Ben barely glanced at it, before smirking and teasing, "Oh, definitely yours. I'm more of a Care Bears man myself, but, you know, we compromised on décor. You got the ponies, and I got the tiara on the bookshelf."

Jimmy laughed, bringing his hand up to cover his face and Ben grinned proudly at him.

"Fine, so we're living together in a non-alien invaded world," Jimmy murmured, when his mirth had died out, peeking at Ben around his hand, "So then…how did we meet? I mean, without the world ending and everything…"

"Well…" Ben mused, relaxing an arm across Jimmy's chest and resting his chin atop it, "If we're living together we would have to be older, right? Over eighteen at least."

"I guess," Jimmy agreed.

"Then we met…at college," Ben decided, a distant smile warming his features as he continued, "We shared a class. One of the core classes…Classical Literature."

Jimmy winced, "I hate that class."

"You've never actually taken it," Ben pointed out.

"I hate the sound of it," Jimmy hedged.

"Yeah, well, okay…that's why you sat in the back. And I sat in the same row, a few desks in front of you," Ben went on, starting to really get into his story of their alternate lives, and in a weird way, Jimmy felt himself being pulled in as well by the bright, eager expression on Ben's face, "That's how we met. I was in your way; you couldn't see the board around me."

"Because you have a fat head," Jimmy casually noted, and Ben wrinkled his brow, made a face of mock hurt.

"My head is proportionate to my body, thank you very much," Ben mumbled protest, then returning to his story, said, "But that's exactly what you told me when you confronted me about it, that I needed to move my…fat…head. So the next class, I moved a desk back, so that you could see even less of the board."

"Because you're an asshole in every reality?" Jimmy quipped.

Ben smirked, "Every class I moved a desk back, until I was sitting right in front of you, and you couldn't see anything but the back of my head. Of course, you confronted me about it again after class, yelling and throwing a tantrum…"

"I don't throw tantrums…"

"…and wanting to know why I couldn't just move a desk over or something…"

"Seems reasonable."

"…and I said…" Ben moved his mouth close to Jimmy's, eyes intent on shimmering blue, "Maybe because I want to be the only thing you see."

Jimmy heart thumped hard against his chest, he drew his breath in a tad sharply, his cheeks flooded with a sudden heat.

"And then what…I punch you?" he demanded.

"Yeah," Ben conceded, unfazed by the fervor in Jimmy's voice. He placed a soft kiss to Jimmy's cheek, trailing kisses along the jaw, before settling back down across Jimmy's chest, "You punched me and left. So the next class, I sat on the other side of the room," instantly the image ached in Jimmy of a collegiate Ben sulking from his rejection in a desk far away, a sea of students between them, "But by then, I had already gotten to you…and even though I wasn't in front of you anymore…"

"You were still all I could see," Jimmy whispered realization, Ben met his gaze, and he looked hastily away, embarrassed, stammering, "So then…who…how…?"

"A couple classes later you approached me," Ben eagerly answered the question Jimmy couldn't form, "And I didn't know what to expect, of course, I'm thinking you might hit me again but you completely blow me away, and ask – no – _tell_ me we're going to get coffee together in that shy frustrated way that you get when you don't want anyone to know how much you really care about something."

"What the fuck are you talking about, man? I don't get any way…like shy…frustrated…whatever," Jimmy grumbled, twitching his gaze to everything in the room but Ben, because he didn't want to see that arrogant told-you-so expression.

"Right…what was I thinking," Ben muttered, with a low chuckle, he slipped his arms around Jimmy, placing a kiss on Jimmy's collar and burying his face in Jimmy's neck, "And that…is…how we met…"

"That's it?" Jimmy persisted, "That's stupid. We went and got coffee, end of story?"

Ben pulled back and fixed him with a quizzical look, "Well of course that's not it. I mean, obviously we fought that whole coffee date."

"Obviously," Jimmy repeated, unconvinced.

"Yeah, we argued about everything; which coffee shop to go to, how to get there – I wanted to drive, you thought we should walk, about how to order the coffee – you take yours black so you made fun of my mocha latte, we couldn't even agree on which table to sit at, and then we couldn't agree on anything to talk about," Ben continued, smiling wryly, "You thought it went horribly, that I would never want to speak, let alone see you again…"

"What makes you think I wanted to speak to _you_ again?" Jimmy protested.

"Okay, you didn't think either of us wanted to speak to each other again," Ben relented, "So you left thinking you'd never hear from me and you get partway down the street and you get a phone call."

Jimmy perked a brow, but remained silent.

"You don't recognize the number, but you answer, and it's me," Ben concluded, shrugging, "I'm just calling to tell you you're cute when you're mad. Of course, I had to wait to tell you until you were far enough away so you couldn't hit me."

"Asshole…in _every_…reality," Jimmy whispered, as though struck with epiphany, he wriggled deeper under the blankets, adjusting himself so that he was more comfortably and more fully situated beneath Ben, he eyed Ben warily, "You've thought a lot about this."

"No, actually I'm just making it up as I go," Ben candidly replied.

"Oh," Jimmy murmured, "It's pretty good. How'd you know I take my coffee black? And more importantly, what the fuck is a mocha latte?"

"Figuring out how _you_ take your coffee is way too easy, and a mocha latte is delicious," Ben explained lightly, and then smirked, "Our second date went better."

"Wait, coffee was our first date?" Jimmy interjected, "That's not a date, Ben, that's coffee." Then he flushed and murmured, "Not that it makes any difference…"

"Okay, fine, our _first_ date went well," Ben persisted, "We got hotdogs and walked around the park, we argued less and actually managed to find things to talk about. We both connected on how much we hate Classical Literature."

"Hotdogs at the park?" Jimmy wrinkled his nose, "That sounds lame…"

"That's what you said when I suggested it," Ben easily explained, "But it was my choice, because coffee was yours. And for your information, it ended up being way more fun then you thought it was going to be and at the end of the night we kissed-"

"Nope. I don't kiss on first dates," Jimmy cut in.

"Really? Because you kissed me on our first date," Ben teased and Jimmy scowled, glaring out at the far wall.

"We haven't _actually_ had a first date," he pointed out in a low stammer.

Ben was silent a moment and Jimmy darted a quick look to him. His eyes were fixed on a spot on Jimmy's collar, his fingers tracing shapes across pale bare skin.

Jimmy cleared his throat and looked up to the ceiling.

"When did we start living together?" he asked, pushing the conversation because it seemed to make Ben happy, even though it inexplicably made him feel more somber.

"We hadn't been dating long," Ben decided quietly, "Maybe less than a year. You needed a roommate."

"We started living together out of necessity?" Jimmy noted with a pang in his chest, and then winced, not that he really cared why they started living together, and it was all a silly fantasy anyhow, so none of it actually mattered, and he was most certainly _not _getting drawn in to the stupid story of alternate him and Ben.

"That's just how you pitched it to me," Ben murmured, sounding as though it should be obvious, pressing a kiss to Jimmy's sternum that tickled slightly and made him squirm a bit, "I knew you didn't really want to just come out and say that you wanted to live with me, so I let you get away with it, said it was perfect timing because I wanted to move out of my folks' house anyway. Fucking Hal was driving me up the wall."

Jimmy smirked, thinking of an older Hal and Ben still at each other's throats, and said nothing a moment, turning the story over in his mind, finding himself wondering if he ever would've known Ben had the aliens not invaded. Would there have been a time when they could've crossed paths? Would it have been the way Ben described, or something similar? Would they have wanted to know one another? Would they have formed any sort of bond? He sighed, traced along the contours of Ben's spine and around those metal rods.

Maybe they never would've known one another. Never would have crossed paths, would have lived their entire lives without ever knowing the other existed.

Jimmy hated thinking that he had any reason to be grateful of the aliens, but in a weird way they gave him Ben, and he wasn't sure how to feel about that.

"We should go on vacation," Ben murmured and Jimmy quirked a brow.

"Well, shit, we're long overdue for one…"

"No, I mean…" Ben fidgeted a bit, and then relaxed, resting his head on Jimmy's shoulder and mumbling, "It would be summer, classes would be out," he shrugged and repeated, "I was just thinking, we would go on a vacation, right?"

"I don't know," Jimmy mumbled, turning his face away to hide the color, although he had given up long ago on fighting the rush of heat to his face at the beginning of this conversation, "I guess…"

"I'm thinking Disneyworld," Ben decided.

"I hate Disneyworld," Jimmy muttered. Ben fixed him with a look of astonishment.

"What? How do you hate Disneyworld?" he demanded.

"My family went there when I was seven," Jimmy explained, darting his gaze away from Ben as he spoke in a low, forced voice, "My mom spent the day in Germany drinking and pushing my little sister around in a stroller. I wandered the park with my dad. Most of the rollercoasters he wanted to go on I was too short for, pissed him off, he even got in a fight with one of the staff about it. So we went on the Teacups like five times because I didn't want to go in the Haunted Mansion and I got sick and my dad yelled at me about it and then my mom wanted me and my sister to take a picture with Mickey Mouse but as soon as I saw the guy in the costume with the giant head…" Jimmy trailed off and, closing his eyes, he quietly admitted, "I started crying and my dad yelled at me about that, and then it started raining…"

"Wow," Ben remarked, "And I thought my family vacations sucked."

"Thanks, man," Jimmy grumbled, rolling his eyes but smirking despite his attempts to look disgruntled.

"So it's settled. We're going to Disneyworld," Ben declared.

Jimmy turned on him, bewildered, "After I just told you I hate the place. _Really_? Do I even have to say it…?"

"Well, yeah, that's why it has to be Disneyworld," Ben explained, catching hold of Jimmy's hand and twining their fingers as he brushed a kiss to Jimmy's cheek, "So I can replace all your bad memories with good ones."

Jimmy closed his eyes, a distinct pain jabbing clear through his heart.

"Why do you do that?" he whispered, though his voice was barely audible, "Why do you say things like that?"

Ben shrugged, nonchalant, murmured, "Because it's how I feel, because it's what I want…to make you forget your past," he lifted himself up and pushed the hair from Jimmy's forehead and pressed a kiss to his mouth, then challenged, "Got a problem with that?"

Jimmy closed his eyes and shook his head, too exhausted by the thought to argue it. Ben gave him another firm kiss and settled again.

"Okay. Fine. We'll go to Disneyworld," Jimmy relented. Ben grinned.

"Great! How do we get there?" Ben wondered.

"Fly," Jimmy suggested.

"No," Ben shook his head and decided, "Road-trip. I'll drive."

"What? No way," Jimmy argued, "Why do you get to drive?"

"Because you would get us lost and because you're so stubborn, you would never admit it and just pull over for directions. We'd end up in Canada..." Ben pointed out.

"Dumbass, that's why _I'll_ drive, you'll be navigator," Jimmy retorted, "And if we end up lost, it'll be because you couldn't read the fucking map."

"Okay, okay," Ben soothed, "Calm down, I didn't know it was that important to you. You can drive."

Jimmy wrinkled his brow and pouted at the far wall, disentangling their hands and folding his arms over his stomach.

"It's not _that_ important to me," he muttered.

Ben smirked, shaking his head and lining kisses along Jimmy's exposed neck, whispering against the skin, "You're so…"

"So…what?" Jimmy challenged, flinching slightly at all the possible intended meanings in that unfinished allegation.

"Nothing," Ben grinned, playfully biting Jimmy's shoulder and then kissing the spot, as he went back to the fantasy, "We should take two days driving to Disneyworld."

"It's not that far," Jimmy commented, "We could probably make it in one."

"Maybe," Ben agreed, "But then we couldn't stop at a seedy motel and-"

"No fucking way am I stopping at a motel," Jimmy cut in heatedly, "They're disgusting places…do you know how often they change the blankets in those rooms, and people get murdered in them and have you any idea what people do…"

"Alright, no motel," Ben cried, "Jeez, you're picky."

Jimmy flushed and argued petulantly, "I am not. I just don't like…it's gross is all."

"You do realize you have gone weeks without bathing, trekked through sewers, crawled through mud and dung, been covered in blood and vomit, and Skitter goo…and through all of that, you still can't sleep in a motel room?" Ben demanded.

Jimmy shrugged, shook his head and reaffirmed, "Not staying in a motel."

"What…did you have a bad experience when you were a kid, or something? Is there another Boland family vacation horror story attached to this?" Ben prodded, half-teasing.

Jimmy rolled his eyes.

"My family never stayed in motels. Mom would only book five star hotels, because motels are gross and people die in them," he murmured explanation, his cheeks deepening in color, and voice becoming increasingly stuttered as he listened to his own words. He closed his eyes and chewed his inner cheek, admitting, "I know how it sounds…"

"Like you're a snob," Ben quipped, propping himself up on his elbow and looking incredulous, "I mean shit, Jimmy, my family could barely afford a single night in most five-star hotels, and that's if we didn't want to do anything on our vacations, and you're telling me your family _only_ stayed in five-star hotels?"

"No…" Jimmy mumbled nervously, looking away in embarrassment, "Usually we stayed at vacation houses…"

"Wait, wait, wait, back up," Ben grumbled, rubbing a hand over his face as he tried to piece together the hidden meaning behind Jimmy's words, "Was your family rich?"

"We were…well off…I guess," Jimmy shrugged, feeling very awkward, "Does it…matter?"

"No. Why did I not know this about you?" Ben pressed.

"Well, I usually wait until the second date to confess my financial status, but since we haven't even had the first one yet…" Jimmy muttered sarcastically. Really, it wasn't important how 'well off' his family had been, it didn't do them a whole hell of a lot of good when the aliens invaded and money didn't actually mean anything in the world anymore.

Ben was quiet a long time and, after a few seconds ticked by; Jimmy peeked up, feeling a rush of heat in his cheeks, the other boy studying his features intently with a drawn expression.

"Is this actually a problem?" Jimmy wondered, wincing at the way his voice quivered.

"No," Ben breathed, shaking his head and blinking a moment, "It's just…you didn't seem like…" he smirked humorously and noted, "It's kind of like a paradigm shift, you know."

"A _what_?"

"What I mean is…I kind of had this image of you from before…from what you told me about before…and now that I know your family was upper class that image is sort of shattered and now I have this completely different image," Ben confessed.

"What the fuck kind of image did you have of me from before," Jimmy demanded, suddenly alarmed, and feeling even more perturbed, "And what the fuck does the new image look like?"

"It doesn't matter," Ben said, smiling as he acknowledged, "All that matters is who you are now, right?"

Jimmy shrugged, "I guess."

Ben sighed, amused, and leaned down to kiss Jimmy, soft, sweet, his tongue swept into Jimmy's mouth momentarily, and it drew out the air from Jimmy's lungs when it departed.

"So…it's settled. We stay at a motel on our road trip," Ben continued with his story and Jimmy pulled a face but decided to skip the argument he already knew he had no chance of winning, "And of course, that night, in the gross bed, I…" Ben cleared his throat and mock-annoyed stated, "…jerk you off."

Jimmy slapped a hand over his face to hide the embarrassed smile.

"Please don't ever say that phrase again…" he stammered between muffled snickers, "It just does not sound right..."

"Hey, shut up. As it turns out, you were the rich, well-educated, prep kid and I'm the streetwise, obnoxious, smart ass from the wrong side of the tracks," Ben retorted, "_You_ are the one that can't say that phrase ever again. You have to use dainty euphemisms like…pleasure one another…or…oh…twiddled-"

"Stop, stop, God, please stop," Jimmy cried, struggling against Ben in an effort to muffle the other boy's mortifying ramblings by using his hand like a gag. Ben only laughed, easily knocking away the attempts, until finally he pinned Jimmy's arms overhead and smirked triumphantly down.

"…or made love," Ben finished, and it shot through Jimmy, this feeling like lightening cracking in his veins. His heart quickened its pace, his cheeks flushed.

"Um…Disneyworld…how…how did the…the vacation end?" Jimmy questioned, hurrying to set their conversation back on track, and squirming under Ben's grasp and his leaden form, all at once warm and sensuous.

"How do _you_ think it ended?" Ben returned gently, voice soft and expression curious, if not a little apprehensive.

It almost felt like Ben was actually invested in this fantasy life that the two boys never shared and somehow because of it Jimmy found he hated Ben's question. He hated the way it ached through him, a vague, dull, soreness in his chest and through his limbs, because in a way, he felt the question underlined a very different sort of pondering: how was their present story going to end.

A heartbeat, two, drummed by, and then Jimmy wriggled his hands free of Ben and slowly snaked them up to cup Ben's cheeks, dragging Ben down and fitting their mouths together, shuddering at the trickle of heat, the delicate taste. Jimmy parted their lips and slipped his tongue in, tentatively exploring every bit of those inner gum walls with soft, thoughtful prods until Ben grunted approval. They hesitantly parted, their breath drawing in sharp, and Jimmy met Ben's eyes.

"Does it matter?" Jimmy asked, silent, bleak. He dropped his gaze and slid his fingers up to lace round Ben's neck, through the metal rods there, "How is this less depressing then thinking about who the little girl might have been that used to sleep in this room?"

Ben jerked away at that, as though burned, sitting up and scanning over the bedside for his clothes. Jimmy peered at him, watching curiously the other boy's unexpected yet very deliberate actions.

"Tell me about this assignment Weaver's got you on," Ben stated plainly, slipping out of the blankets and snatching his garments off the floor. He began dressing.

Jimmy started to sit up and follow Ben's example, but felt a sudden lightness in his head and slumped back down, making an effort to look as though he'd simply changed his mind about rising from bed. He closed his eyes, his heart palpitating in his chest.

"What about it?" he snapped, frustrated at the ominous chill washing over him, trying desperately to hide the way his body was trembling, as he wrapped his arms tightly around himself.

"He's got you training the other unharnessed kids," Ben noted bitterly, "Why did you agree to it?"

"Because I felt bad for them," Jimmy lied. He began to relax as the horrible feeling slowly passed; he really needed to get some sleep, and probably should eat something when he got back to camp, although his stomach was threatening not to hold anything down.

Ben muttered something inaudible at Jimmy's words, sounding a little disbelieving, but Jimmy wasn't about to confess to Ben that he was simply grooming the four teenagers to be the 2nd Mass's new favorite punching bags

"No one will train them even though we desperately need more fighters," Jimmy expounded.

"No one?" Ben challenged, dubious, "I'm sure if Weaver ordered it…"

"And force an unwilling fighter to do it? What kind of training do you think they would honestly get from someone who doesn't even want them in camp, let alone holding a gun and marching into battle with the rest of us?" Jimmy interjected, then muttered miserably, "Look, I get that I'm not the best person for the job, I mean, hell, Weaver only asked me to do it because of you, okay? I should just get a fucking t-shirt that says 'I heart razorbacks', shit. I figured, what the hell, it's better than patrol with the rest of the 2nd Mass cannon fodder."

"You're not cannon fodder," Ben pathetically attempted retort but Jimmy just offered him a look full of spite, as he struggled to sitting and successfully managed to stay upright, pulling a knee up to rest against.

"This according to the 2nd Mass's resident super soldier," Jimmy grumbled, "Don't even bother, Ben. I got my fifteen minutes bringing down that warehouse, and I kind of wish I'd never even done that."

"You and me both," Ben muttered.

Jimmy ran a hand through his hair, frowning and knowing he probably looked more rumpled than usual and that there was nothing he could do about it. He didn't have shower privileges for another night, and unlike most fighters, he actually adhered to the schedule.

Ben stood rigid in the middle of the room, staring intently at the floor.

"Can you tell Weaver you changed your mind?" he asked.

"I don't know. Why would I?" Jimmy muttered.

"Because I want you to," Ben answered sharply, turning to look at Jimmy and commanding in a steady tone, "Tell Weaver you can't train them."

Jimmy quirked a brow and gaped, stammering confusedly, "Uh…no?"

"Jimmy, I don't want you training them," Ben persisted, "So just…could you, please, _not_."

"You kept saying you wanted to talk about it so this is your idea of talking about it? Telling me what to do? Fuck you," Jimmy snapped, rage brewing in his gut.

Ben's behavior had been erratic lately, to say the least, but this was entirely new. Albeit, they hadn't known one another long, there were still things left to figure out and learn, but they might not be getting to that if this was the kind of person Ben could be. Hot tears lined the edge of Jimmy's eyes, an awful pain cutting through him at the thought, if it came to it, could he really walk away from Ben?

"No, that's not it," Ben protested, unconvincingly, then grumbled, "I just…I don't want you hanging around them…is all."

Jimmy narrowed his eyes to dangerous slits, "Is there something I'm missing? Yesterday it kind of felt like I was watching an old Western stand-off, the way you were all staring at each other. You're telling me to stay away from them, they keep telling me I shouldn't hang out with you-"

"What?" Ben cried, "Shit, Jimmy, why won't you just-"

"Oh, hell, Ben, it's not like I plan on listening to them," Jimmy cut in, pulling himself to his feet and angrily tugging his clothes on, "If I decide to stop hanging out with you, it's going to be my fucking decision, same as it's my decision if I want to train them or not."

"Goddammit, can't you just stop being stubborn for five seconds and do what I say just this once? I don't trust them," Ben argued.

"And I should trust _you_ because…?" Jimmy challenged and Ben gaped, a consortium of pain scrambling across his features. Guilt pounded into Jimmy, and he dropped his gaze a moment to gather his strength, then leered up through lashes at the other boy, stammering demand, "Would you ever lie to me?"

Silence. Jimmy turned away, unable to stand looking at that blank expression on Ben's face, as the knife twisted in his heart and his stomach turned with sickness.

"Forget it," Jimmy murmured, scooping his boots off the ground and striding determinedly past Ben, terse and solemn, he hissed, "Go to hell, Ben."

He slammed the door shut behind him.

* * *

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A/N: So, I wanted to be like, "Look, this is a real pillow talk scene! Post-coitus snuggling with happy, fluffy chatter without any of that gruesome murder confession stuff, right? Except, then it ends in a fight and yeah...I might have problems when it comes to writing that kind of fluffy stuff...

Oh well.

Let me know what you all thought please!

Reviewers: SassySavanna190, hehe, I'm kind of wondering what you were expecting Roman to do. Lol, I wouldn't torture you with a cliffhanger, would I? Oh wait...nevermind. Haley, yay, you came back with uber "aww" vengeance Glad you liked it, and glad you found a moment to stop in. JDMlvr1, hehe, its nice that the boys finally got a real "bedroom" scene, I think. Facepalmer123, really? Cool! NOxONE, thank you, yeah, anything that ends in O_O is usually good. Checkyourmetrics, it makes me sad when they fight too. IcicleLilly, although I understand the finals dilemma, I have finals all next week myself that I should be prepping for, I'm kind of glad you relapsed and dropped in to read. You still love Roman? You are hardcore; makes me happy. Hope this chapter was worth the wait! Good luck on finals.

I hope that I made sense. I don't know if I did. I need to go to sleep.

See you all...when's the next update?


	19. Chapter 19

A/N: A huge thank you to all of the wonderful reviewers! You guys are awesome.

And a big thank you to Greg for beta-ing.

Read.

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XIX.

In the coal black night, when Ben slipped out for his hunt, he was surprised to find Rick standing on the fringe of the 2nd Mass's camp perimeter, staring blankly out at the horizon, as though fixated on something in the distance.

Rick was the other 'razorback' of the 2nd Mass, the only other one of the unharnessed children that retained his spikes and developed abilities akin to Ben's own. He didn't use his Skitter-gifted powers to help fight like Ben, however; in fact, he rarely left the center of camp. Usually, he could be found sitting in a common area outside, watching birds fly overhead or land nearby and peck at the ground for miniscule morsels of foodstuff, looking akin to a retired old man. Which in a way suited him, he'd been through more than most went through in a lifetime at such a young age. He'd been the first of the children 'saved', his father having snatched him up on an emotionally motivated impulse, ruining the first planned rescue of Ben.

Rick initially held onto a perverse attachment for his Skitter masters, and even once attempted returning the harness to his backside. He witnessed his father's death, not long after Ben's own subsequent rescue, at the hands of traitorous humans, which seemed to push him even more towards favoring the Skitters, some of the comments he'd made to Ben still sent shivers along Ben's spine, and then suddenly, Rick didn't want anything to do with the Skitters anymore. He became a defeated man, robbed of hope and purpose.

Ben spoke with Rick on occasion. He felt an obligation, his life entwined with Rick's like fellow former prisoners of war, and he felt a sense of guilt, as the only one aside from himself that showed Rick any concern was Dr. Glass and hers was merely an ethical interest as his doctor.

Unfortunately, Ben didn't enjoy their conversations, as if a reminder of what he could have been perhaps if he'd worn the harness a month or so longer. Regardless, he reached out, though significantly less often since starting his relationship with Jimmy, he sat with Rick sometimes and asked questions, typically receiving only one worded responses, or even none at all. It was the rare days, however, that Ben truly dreaded, when Rick was seemingly more lucid and became an active participant in the conversation, because he only spoke on one topic: the harness.

Rick didn't see the evil of the harness; he only saw its possibilities. He saw what it had given him, health. Rick had been ill before, with a disease that caused muscle degeneration but he was cured by the harness. Ben could certainly understand, he'd suffered from acute asthma before, and now he could perform physical activities, like running great lengths, that long ago he never would have dreamed possible. Rick talked about his belief that the harness could be used for the resistance's benefit, that they could create an army of super soldiers to rival the alien forces. Whenever Ben asked about the other effects of the harness, mainly the mind-control and the neurological rewiring that altered the harness's host on a psychological level, Rick remained disturbingly placid.

Needless to say, given their prospective conversation topics, Ben wasn't in the mood to deal with Rick that night, not after his argument with Jimmy hours earlier. It didn't make sense to Ben how things could go so quickly from perfect bliss to utter disaster in a matter of seconds, and all because Jimmy had to be a complete and total stubborn ass.

_I should trust you because…?_

Ben winced as the words echoed in his heart. They still stung with all their implications beginning and ending with the only answer he could have provided Jimmy at that moment: _You probably shouldn't_.

_Would you ever lie to me?_

That one was less of a sting and more a no-holds-barred punch in the gut. It wasn't a real question, Ben had known as soon as Jimmy spat it out. Real questions weren't asked by people who already knew their answers.

Hours had passed since Jimmy had left Ben with the sweet parting words, 'go to hell', nonetheless, their fight still ran hot through Ben's veins, and there stood Rick, suspiciously out of place on the edge of camp. As if the day hadn't pummeled Ben enough.

Warily, Ben moved towards the other boy, darting furtive glances to that spot on the horizon where Rick stared so intently. It took him several seconds, but eventually he realized Rick was looking in the same direction where he had seen that explosion of white light several nights back.

"You saw it too," Ben accused, "The other night, you saw it…"

"No," Rick replied, not bothering to tear his eyes from that horizon to so much as glance at Ben, and notably ignoring the glaring question as to what it was Ben was claiming him to have seen, "But I felt it. I still feel it. You feel it too."

Ben pursed his lips and furrowed his brow, turning to gaze out the same direction as Rick. He closed his eyes, concentrated, explored, prodded, and sought. There was the crackle, like lightening, incessant, ever present. He'd pushed it to the back of his mind, muffled it with an onslaught of thoughts and emotions, wrestled it down by giving into it moments at a time and embracing his less-than-human side until it subsided in its persistent demand for attention, but it was there still, buzzing loud and clear.

"What is it?" Ben wondered, then narrowed his eyes on Rick and demanded haughtily, "Do you know?"

"No," Rick answered certain and without hesitance, "It's calling to us."

A lithe blonde flickered through Ben's mind, he imagined for a moment her words a soft hiss against his ear, and flinched, shook his head furiously. His heart was hammering away in his chest.

"Have you been having weird dreams?" Ben questioned, his voice wavering slightly, revealing his fears.

"Weird?" Rick returned, quirking his brow, "Weird how?"

Ben shrugged, "Just anything?"

"I haven't dreamed since the harness was removed," Rick stated unabashedly, then remarked, "Same as you."

"I've had dreams," Ben snapped, folding his arms over his chest and drawing in a sharp breath, letting it out slow. He couldn't recall any of those dreams off the top of his head, but he was sure he'd had them. He wasn't like Rick; the harness hadn't affected his mental state so profoundly, he was certain of it. Despite the spikes and the super-abilities, he was still more human than alien.

Rick remained stoic, ignoring Ben's huffy comment and keeping his eyes set on the horizon. Ben studied Rick a moment, adrenaline pulsing, blistering, through his veins, begging to be used and there was a sound like the roaring ocean in his ears. He took a deep breath and sorted out the thoughts in his head, before folding his arms over his chest and clearing his throat.

"Have you…um…been having blackouts?" Ben asked. The question tasted like dread on his tongue.

"They aren't blackouts," Rick returned. He finally tilted his head to look at Ben and remarked, "You know what they are."

Ben bit back the vapid response to that smug assertion. He had been losing more and more chunks of time; on the roof during surveillance, out hunting Skitters, earlier that day in bed with Jimmy, and 'blackouts' seemed the best explanation. He couldn't fathom any other reason for it, and here Rick was, not only confessing that he knew what they were, but that Ben himself should know.

"All I know is that I can't account for periods in my day, and that I keep having visions of some girl," Ben seethed. Rick's expression shifted interestedly, almost bemused, then fixed back into a mask of apathy.

"We all experience it differently," Rick noted.

"It?" Ben pressed, "What is _it_?"

"The harness," Rick remarked. Ben felt as though knocked back by a sudden and powerful force, his lungs emptied, his heart faltered, his entire body felt wiped of all strength.

"We aren't harnessed anymore," he spat out, "Why is that always the topic with you? Why can't you just forget about that fucking thing? It's not on us, it has nothing to do with us-"

"It's left behind its mark on us," Rick cut in, fixing his gaze once more to the horizon, "They severed our connection to the harness, true, but you can't deny that a part of it still remains in us. Isn't that why you were leaving camp? Because of that part…that part of you that's still connected."

"Shut up," Ben whispered.

"You've been leaving every night because of it. You know it's true," Rick insisted.

Ben hand shot forward almost subconsciously, grabbing hold of Rick's collar and ripping him forward, so that their eyes were locked.

"I said shut up," Ben hissed.

Rick didn't so much as flinch, remarking dispassionately, "You can deny a lot of things, Ben, but it's kind of difficult to deny that you're not still in-part connected to the harness, when the evidence on your back suggests otherwise. You complicate it too much. You deny it when the 2nd Mass hates you for it, but you embrace it when they need it? It's changed you. It's still changing you. I know, because it's still changing me too. You can't lie to me, we're the same you and I, remember that."

"We're not the same," Ben murmured petulantly. As soon as that thing was cut from his back, he never wanted it reattached. There was never a time when he longed to be reunited with the aliens. There was never a moment when he would have betrayed humanity to be accepted into the alien community. He was fundamentally different from Rick and Rick needed to remember _that_.

"What does she say?" Rick asked. Ben grimaced, glared at him.

"What does who say?"

"The girl; in your visions. She says things to you. What does she say?" Rick persisted.

Ben didn't like the self-assurance in Rick's words, despite the fact that Rick was right, the girl did say things and though Ben couldn't remember what those things were, he knew they disturbed him deeply.

"I don't know," Ben muttered, "Why do you care?"

"It's the important part of the visions," Rick stated, as though it should be obvious, "It's the message."

"The message…?"

Ben wrinkled his brow; his heart started hammering away as thoughts tumbled rampantly through his mind. He thought back to that Skitter watching him in the distance the other day near that strange alien structure. It could have attacked him at any time while he was lost in his vision, but instead, it turned and left him. It hadn't occurred to him that, perhaps, the vision had been instigated by the Skitter, or at the very least, that the Skitter knew what was happening to him.

Ben released Rick, the other boy returning his gaze to the horizon. Watching Rick's eyes, scouring the distance as though the answers to life lie just beyond the dark glow of twilight, a thought occurred to Ben.

"What message do _you_ get?"

Rick grimaced, lowered his eyes. It was the first 'human' reaction from him that night, the first that Ben had witnessed from him in a long time.

"Join us," Rick murmured answer, "She says join us."

Ben drew his breath in deep and let it out slow. His mind swarmed with disjointed images, fragments of sentences just beyond his reach of comprehension. He remembered blonde, an innocent smile on soft pink lips, and a sinister intent behind gray-green eyes.

"Who is she?" Ben asked, though even as he spoke the words aloud he knew he didn't really want the answer.

"My mother," Rick whispered and Ben startled, looking at the other boy in confusion. Rick quirked a brow at Ben and snorted softly, "I told you, we all experience it differently. I don't know who the girl is in your visions, Ben, but she must have been _someone_ you knew or there wouldn't be a reason for them to send her to you."

"Them?" Ben repeated dumbly.

Rick folded his arms over his chest.

"Obviously someone is sending these messages," he clarified.

"Where do you think they're coming from?" Ben wondered.

Rick gestured with a jut of his chin towards the horizon, the direction where that light had exploded far in the distance.

"It started the same night that started," Rick said, "They're connected. It's been calling to us, maybe it's also sending the messages."

"Or maybe the messages are from something else trying to keep us from going towards the light," Ben suggested, he shook his head and questioned, "What are you going to do?"

"Do?" Rick pressed.

"Well…yeah. That thing is calling us out," Ben elucidated, "And the visions definitely want us to do something…"

"I plan to ignore the visions and stay as far away from that thing out there as possible," Rick answered sharply, then giving Ben a meaningful look added, "I suggest you _do_ the same."

Ben dropped his eyes to scan the pavement, swaddled in darkness. He couldn't say he liked the idea of something out there in the distance calling to him and not being able to respond, to face it head on, or silence it altogether. The visions were more perturbing, however. He didn't know what brought them on, they started and ended whenever they pleased, and it seemed he had no way to keep them from taking him over.

At a movement from Rick, Ben lifted his eyes; the other boy had spun round and was heading back towards camp.

"It's a bad night to go hunting," Rick commented over his shoulder.

Ben let his eyes linger on the horizon a moment, considering Rick's words, before ducking his head down and stalking forward into the night.

It was a shorter jog than Ben expected before he found Skitters. There were three in total, clustered too close together for him to take them one at a time, in a business plaza a few miles from camp. Ben hadn't brought a rifle with him, only the knife strapped to his thigh, which he unsheathed.

Though reason told Ben he should walk away, that the risk was too high, his earlier fight with Jimmy remained vivid at the forefront of his mind kicking adrenaline hot through his veins, and then his conversation with Rick ran ice up his spine. He needed these kills; his body was begging him for it. So he strode forward, openly approaching those creatures that would undoubtedly haunt his nightmares if he still had any, with only a knife and the abilities those self-same creatures were responsible for giving him.

"Can anyone tell me, what is meant by the term 'subjugation'?" Mr. Grayling asked at the front of the class, his thick black hair shimmered unnaturally in the fluorescent light, heavily greased, his dry lips were cracking and he nibbled them every so often. He eyed all of his students behind tortoise-shell rimmed glasses, a plastic wire stringing from their arms back across his sunburned neck.

Ben darted a glance around the room. A couple hands were held high in the air, Arnie's amongst them. The room was dingy, the white walls stained with yellow, and plastered with outdated posters from the early eighties and beyond, purporting that the, "Past is Groovy", amongst other things. The threadbare red and black carpet stunk of mildew; the desks were rickety and marked up with ancient scrawls: curse words, pornographic cartoons, initials in heart-shapes like the 'J.B.' on the top right corner of his own desk, and various other remnants of students that once roamed the school halls.

"Arnold, why don't you give it a shot," Mr. Grayling bellowed. The hands went down and Arnie eagerly spoke up with answer.

"Subjugation is when the enemy is completely and unequivocally defeated."

"Very good, Arnold. Subjugation is to be defeated," Mr. Grayling boomed, "In war, when the enemy surrenders or is annihilated, we can say that it has been subjugated."

"Wait, wait, that's not really true," Ben interrupted, "That's not an accurate definition at all."

A hush fell over the room, all eyes turning to Ben, nestled in the corner beside a bookshelf lined with texts titled, "The Invasion: An Intergalactic History".

"Well then, please, Benjamin, enlighten us," Mr. Grayling replied, his tone light and airy, somewhat patronizing.

Mr. Grayling had been Ben's favorite teacher, and Ben his undisputed 'teacher's pet', until they disagreed about the factors that played into the Confederate Army's defeat during the Civil War, Ben citing his father 'the university war history professor' to back his argument. Ultimately, in front of the entire class, Mr. Grayling had pulled up a series of scholarly articles online in attempt to prove Ben wrong, but only managed to garner greater support for Ben's claims. Instead of admitting he was wrong Mr. Grayling stuck Ben in the most unsavory desk in class and treated everything he said as though coming from a pampered child.

"To be defeated is to be defeated," Ben started carefully.

"Well articulated," Mr. Grayling jeered sardonic, and the rest of class burst into laughter as Ben flustered mildly, seeking to regain control of his emotions.

"By defining subjugation simply as 'defeat', you're ignoring all the other implications behind the word," Ben seethed.

"What exactly are you suggesting, Benjamin?" Mr. Grayling prodded, folding his arms over his chest and leaning back against his large desk at the front of the room.

"Defeat is final. There's no coming back from it. I'm done, dead, game over," Ben explained, his tone quivering with a subtle hint of anger, "Defeated. Subjugation, on the other hand, is a kind of forced surrender, I'm pushed down so far I might seem defeated but although I can't fight back yet, that doesn't mean I won't as soon as the opportunity presents itself. I may be subjugated for the moment, but it's only temporary."

"What if the subjugation expands so far that it suppresses even your will to fight back, Benjamin, is it defeat then?" Mr. Grayling posed and then wondered, "And what if the defeat is only in your mind, is that not subjugation?"

"No, that…" Ben faltered, shook his head and glared at the floor, "What does any of this have to do with history?"

"Well, I would think that was obvious," Mr. Grayling answered easily, "It's your history, Benjamin."

But on his final words, the bell rang overhead dismissing class and everyone stood, gathering their belongings and rushing from the room. Ben gathered up his own books and bag and stumbled to depart with the crowd, keeping his head down to avoid Mr. Grayling's notice, as the words echoed in his mind: 'subjugate' and 'defeat'. Were they interchangeable? Were they fundamentally separate of one another? Did it really matter? Could you tell the difference if you were either one or the other?

Ben exited the classroom and the door shut heavily behind him. Through the flood of students he caught a flash of blue, the figure of a familiar, yet at the same time completely unfamiliar, boy slipping into a classroom and his breath hitched. His feet moved without his permission as his books fell haphazardly to the floor. He pushed his way through disgruntled peers.

For a moment, the world grew dark and blurred around the edges; Ben could hear a screeching sound as if a siren, it cut through his mind like a serrated knife. Suddenly he was aware of a cold dampness on his forehead, slithering down his face, and images flickered before his eyes, too fast to be made sense of, as if a glitch in reality, and then there came a blinding light. He grasped the classroom door handle, twisted, shoved, and stumbled through.

Ben stood in the family room at home. Matt was watching television, laughing at the comical genius of cartoon marine life.

"Ben? Get in here, hon, it's your turn to clean the dishes tonight," Ben's mother called from the kitchen.

Ben glanced around the living room confusedly. His brow furrowed, he looked over his shoulder but there was no door there, only the open corridor leading back to his and Matt's shared bedroom. He was dressed in his pajamas, sweatpants and a t-shirt, fuzzy slippers. He was certain he wasn't standing there a moment ago, but he couldn't quite recall where he had been. He trudged into the kitchen, his mother and father were sitting at the table holding hands and talking in low, hushed voices. Ben made his way to the sink, piled high with the dinner dishes; they'd eaten baked chicken and scalloped potatoes.

"How was school today, son?" his father asked. He'd been at lectures until late into the evening, getting home just in time for supper, and then spent the meal discussing Hal's upcoming lacrosse match, and date that past weekend with some girl named Betsy or Beverly or Beatrice something. It seemed he finally had the opportunity to give his middle son attention.

"Fine," Ben murmured. He started the faucet, warming the water, as he poured soap over the pots and pans. He couldn't recall school that day. He couldn't recall what day it was, had he even gone to school?

"Did you look into the scholarships for space camp?" his father questioned.

"Um…no, I didn't…I uh…I forgot," Ben quietly answered, scrubbing at a piece of crispy fat stuck fast to the bottom of the baking pan.

"Son," his father started in a disappointed tone, "You know deadlines are fast approaching. You've been talking about wanting to do this for the past two summers, we finally have a bit of money set aside but we can't afford the whole cost, you know that."

"Yeah, well, it's just that…I was thinking…maybe…I don't know…I could play on the summer intramural lacrosse team this year…maybe," Ben stammered suggestion, keeping his eyes fixed on the pans.

He could hear his parents both draw their breath in sharply at the same time.

"Sweetheart, you know that you can't," his mother started gently, "Your asthma…"

"I just thought that maybe, this year, I can," Ben attempted, pausing on the dishes, his hands trembling. He swallowed back the swell of emotion in his chest, "People grow out of those sorts of things, I mean, my allergies weren't that bad this year, and Dr. Kim said she thought I was growing out of those, maybe it's the same with my asthma. We won't know unless I try…"

"I said no, Ben," his mother interrupted sharply, "And that's final."

"You're never going to be able to do those kinds of things; you know you aren't capable of it," his father spoke up. Ben shook his head furiously at the words.

"Then what am I capable of?" Ben demanded, spinning round abruptly and losing his hold on the baking pan in the process. It slipped to the floor and shattered into millions of little, glistening, soapy pieces, "Oh shit, I'm sorry…"

"Some people were born for greatness, son, and others…"

Ben wasn't in the kitchen anymore, now standing in the middle of a far-stretching field of yellow and red flowers that resembled small beetles, they had thorns that caught in Ben's clothing, and bit into his skin, scratching deeply through his flesh and drawing blood. In the distance stood the girl with blonde hair, her expression imploring, an ache spread through Ben's chest.

"Are you still fighting, Ben?" she asked, her voice carrying across the field like a rippling wind, "Or are you ready to admit defeat, and accept what you were born to be?"

Three dead Skitters sprawled along the ground at Ben's feet, mangled and dismembered. He held his knife still at the ready, as though awaiting another opponent, blood and ichor stained from the tip of the blade up to his elbow. There was a gash across his chest, a strange soreness in his back under his shoulder blades, a stinging on his cheek.

Ben blinked away the faded after image of an alien flower field, refocusing on his surroundings. The adrenaline had stopped pulsating through his bloodstream, his rapid breathing, more a reaction to the energy rush than a desperate bid for air, was returning to a calm and steady gait. He closed his eyes a moment, reopened them and with a trembling hand wiped the blade of his knife clean on his pant leg and sheathed it.

What had transpired moments ago, how exactly the Skitters had met their fate, Ben wasn't certain. It must have been by his hand, the evidence was literally all over him. He checked the watch on his wrist and grimaced, a sickening shudder rolling through him and turning his stomach. Roughly fifteen minutes had passed and he couldn't recall a single second of them.

Taking a deep breath, Ben headed back the direction of camp.

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A/N: Right. Who can tell me what word we talked a lot about in my women's studies class the day I wrote this? And lookee! Rick makes his debut. I've kind of decided he's going to have a big role in this story - it would be remiss if he didn't, because a lot of this story focuses on the unharnessed children and he is the original unharnessed child. His role will grow bigger more so towards the middle and end of the story though, so you won't see much of him in these beginning chapters...maybe around chapter forty or fifty...we'll see.

Anyhow, tell me what you think please!

Reviewers: I love that almost everyone felt compelled to pick a side after Ben and Jimmy's fight, but I think I loved more that not every one chose the same side. Cookie97, yes, they had met before the attack, so we all know they would have met and fallen in love if the aliens never invaded, but unfortunately, Jimmy doesn't remember :( . WhisperMaw, lol, I like your alternate reality Ben and Jimmy story. Truthfully, I can imagine it being something along those lines too, but Ben was telling the story so he got to make all the moves. One day someone should write an AU Ben/Jimmy "if the aliens never invaded" fic. That'd be awesome. Always glad when you have a chance to stop in! Facepalmer123, I'm glad to hear it! JDMlvr1, yes, Thursday it is! Hehe, I'm glad the chapter caught you by surprise. Haley, I love your description of how Ben is with Jimmy. Jimmy can be the same, he just has so much baggage. SassySavanna190, hehe, I do love cliff hangers. I don't think I write enough of them. I'm glad you liked it...and yes, I guess arguing is what makes them them. Glad I made you laugh too! CheckyourMetrics, wow, that's a lot of paragraphs to favorite! Now that you mention it, Ben _was_ pretty smooth, I think he may have learned a thing or two from his playa brother Hal, or maybe his Casanova daddy Tom - bagging the doc less than a year after they lost their significant others? He's a fast operator. Glad you liked it, thanks for the kind words! IcicleLilly, yeah...I don't believe in straight fluff. Lol, you sound so begrudged at having to choose Jimmy's side! I'm glad you still liked the chapter overall!

Thank you again to all the reviewers! I need to go get some coffee. See you all...Sunday? Yes, Sunday. Oh...when the hell are finals over?


	20. Chapter 20

A/N: I got to make this quick, was out late last night at a birthday party for an old friend and realized how old I'm getting...called it a night at midnight...only had a few drinks and I feel groggy and sore. Now I have to write a paper on the Neolithic...oh joy.

Thank you to the reviewers for dropping in last chapter, glad you all were excited to see Rick!

And a big thank you to Greg for beta-ing this chapter, awesome as ever!

Read.

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XX.

Jimmy nodded to a few fighters in passing as he slipped into the community center restroom marked "Men". He was relatively relieved to find it empty but he wasn't really surprised; it was fairly early in the morning, roughly two or three and the few people awake were out on patrol.

As usual, Jimmy couldn't sleep. He splashed some water on his face and examined the injury left over from his scuffle with Roman in one of the severely scratched and graffiti-covered mirrors. He furrowed his brow, tracing his fingertips along the left side of his face and across the corner of his lip.

The bruising and swelling had gone down significantly, but curiously, his lip appeared entirely mended. He leaned in closer across the sink, trying to get a better look. He knew there had been a cut there; he'd spent most of the afternoon sucking on blood, yet there was no evidence that the skin had been recently split, not even a scab. There was however a strange, almost glossy look to his flesh, evident at certain angles in the light. He brushed at it but nothing happened, then blinked a few times and squinted his eyes, decided he was seeing things.

Jimmy sighed, rubbing his face with the keel of his hand, attempting to grind away his weariness while recalling Dr. Glass's assessment weeks earlier in regards to his healing injuries from the warehouse escapade with a scoff, "Malleability of youth…"

At least he wouldn't be fending off questions from concerned fellow-fighters for days on end.

Jimmy left the restroom and wandered aimlessly through the darkened community center corridors. There was a strangely disorienting feeling to those hallways, still plastered with posters, lined with bulletin boards covered in obsolete postings: pottery class, swimming lesson schedules, 'Join the Community Theater', cooking, self-defense, jazzercise, 'Let's Keep Our Community Green'.

There was a poster advertising the upcoming production of The Nutcracker that coming Christmas, and shaken, Jimmy suddenly felt the need to get out of the community center. He strode hastily through the halls and burst out one of the exits, heart pounding erratic in his chest, his breath sharp and strangled. On the outskirts of camp he could see Ben's tent and the image brought an all new clench on his heart, as their fight earlier echoed in his mind.

Jimmy folded his arms over his chest and meandered the opposite direction of the tent a few steps, eyes on the ground and thoughts tumbling through his head. Ben had no place telling him to drop an assignment because they screwed around together every now and then or because they attached some stupid meaningless label to explain that screwing around.

Jimmy sighed, ghosted a hand over his features and scowled inwardly.

Ben had been under a lot of stress in recent days, his mission scrapped and his brother constantly ragging on him, Jimmy probably could've cut him some slack and just agreed to it. After all, his exchanged blows with Roman pretty much made his deal with the four unharnessed teens null and void; it wasn't like he would be continuing training any of them anyways. But, as always, he had to push.

Jimmy faltered, his shoulders trembling slightly as he recalled the last words he threw at Ben and that blank look, it felt like a knife plunging into his heart all over again. That surprise at the question, _would you ever lie to me_, as if Ben had never expected Jimmy to ever figure it out, to ever doubt him for a second. And with a strange aching pain, Jimmy realized, he never would have figured it out, noting with a taste like bile in the back of his throat, because he trusted Ben. For once in his life, he'd finally let himself fully trust someone, only to have it whip back at him, a scathing, toxic thing that ripped right through him and left nothing unmarred in its wake.

A stray tear tumbled down Jimmy's cheek and he swiped it angrily away, muttering, "Fuck."

Bastard still had Weaver's compass.

Jimmy needed to get it back. He turned to look at the tent, a hazy gray settling over camp as the sun just began to kiss the horizon. He took a deep breath, let it out shakily. He wasn't sure he was ready to face Ben yet, not with their fight so fresh in his mind. But he couldn't leave the compass in Ben's possession, not when it was supposed to be in his, it would be a betrayal of Weaver's trust.

After all, the compass was Jimmy's responsibility. And it wasn't like he would really have to talk to Ben. All he had to do was demand the item and then leave. He smirked sardonic and shook his head in agitation.

Of course, Ben might not even be in the tent. He was probably out hunting, alone, again. Hell, he probably considered himself fortunate he didn't have to come up with a lie to get rid of Jimmy for the night.

That settled it. Jimmy would just go to the tent, if by some miracle Ben was there then he would demand the compass and leave, and if not, he would just find the fucking thing himself and be done with it and done with Ben.

Jimmy flinched, hating the small gasp that escaped the back of his throat as he tightened his arms around himself.

Maybe not _done_-done with Ben.

Jimmy shook his head again and ran his hand across his eyes, smearing unshed tears. He didn't know anymore. His heart hurt too much, and he couldn't make sense of his thoughts, managing to precariously straddle the line between sheer anger and severe depression. This was not fair, why did he have to feel so much emotional turmoil.

And Ben, who the fuck knew what Ben felt. Half the time Ben acted like he had no cares in the world, the other half he seemed perpetually irritated with his older brother. Where did Jimmy fit on that spectrum? Halfway between apathy and annoyance? Maybe all Jimmy really meant to Ben was someone to talk to when the rest of camp wouldn't, something to do when he got restless and couldn't slip off to go hunting.

Taking another deep, steadying breath, Jimmy started forward, keeping his arms crossed and shoulders tense. Each step spread a growing dread through him starting at the pit of his stomach and swarming outwards. Mentally, he begged and pleaded with the God he no longer believed in for Ben to not be in that tent, but when he finally reached it, and tentatively slipped through the flap, there was an inexorable disappointment that dropped over him to find it empty inside; which, of course, meant one thing.

Jimmy closed his eyes and fought the urge to collapse in some foreign, overwhelming sorrow. Shaking away the dark feeling, he opened his eyes again and swept his gaze over the tent. He smiled faintly a moment, and then dismissed it quickly with a hard frown.

It was kind of a disaster in there.

Ben's clothes were strewn about haphazardly, though mostly gathered around his duffel bag sitting open on the ground towards the far back of the tent. His sleeping bag was rumpled, bunched up slightly, the travel chess board set that Matt typically toted around camp set atop it. In one corner of the tent there was a small pile of empty food-packages, wrappers from granola bars and plastic juice bottles. He had a couple books stacked to one end of the tent, they were wrinkled and smashed on one side, their pages torn and folded, worn from use.

It didn't seem like something that mattered, that the books were so damaged, considering they would be tossed as soon as Ben was done with them because the 2nd Mass didn't have room to carry around useless items like books, but for whatever reason the lack of care with which Ben treated those items, and the mess in its entirety irritated Jimmy. He didn't even know where to begin to look for Weaver's compass amidst the chaos.

With no other apparent choice, Jimmy set about straightening up. He started by sorting through the clothes, partially hoping that the compass would be in the duffel in plain view and he could just snatch it up and go, but no such luck and he didn't feel comfortable digging through the bag and Ben's belongings therein, purposely hidden from sight. He imagined such an intrusion wouldn't go over well with the other boy, even though he told himself he didn't really care.

There weren't a lot of garments, just a few dark colored t-shirts, a pair of cargo pants, and a light-green long sleeved shirt. He shook them out, folded them up, and stacked them in a neat pile. There were some undergarments scattered around and Jimmy left those for the most part alone, nudging them with the toe of his boot into a pile across the tent.

Then he went about rearranging 'the furniture' so to speak. There was an electric lantern with a hand-generator attached that Jimmy put in the center of the tent, then the small duffel bag of Ben's personal belongings, toiletries and presumably clean clothes, he pushed to the far back of the tent. Ben had a gun or two tossed in one corner and Jimmy inspected them, checked their clips and chambers, all clear, and then neatly laid them next to the duffel bag.

Sighing, and still unable to locate the compass, Jimmy straightened out the sleeping bag and sat on top of it, grabbing one of the nearby books and smoothing out its cover to read the title: _The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_. Jimmy made a face. He'd never read the book but he'd seen the movie, so he had a good idea what it was about and wondered how it was that Ben hadn't yet had his fill of aliens.

Jimmy set the book aside and picked up the next one, checked the title: _Metamorphosis_. It had been listed assigned reading on his syllabus for his eighth grade English class, but the aliens had invaded before they got that far into the semester. He thumbed through a few of the pages, attempted to read, but only ended up with a headache trying to understand how anyone could be interested in so much whiny rambling, so he set that book aside and reached for the next one: _Paradise Lost_. He paused, looking puzzled at his hand.

There was a patch of skin at Jimmy's wrist that didn't look right; there was something – on him maybe? – discoloring it. He brought his hand back, used his thumb to try rubbing away whatever it was he'd gotten on himself but to no avail, and then furrowed his brow, rolling his sleeve back to inspect the area closer only to discover that the discoloration ran the entire length of his forearm.

And then it struck him, there wasn't something on his skin. What he was looking at _was_ his skin: all at once iridescent and translucent. He'd seen this before, the other night in the back of the truck. He closed his eyes, his head suddenly swimming with a vague dizziness. He felt as though plunged in a bath of ice, and suddenly found he couldn't hold himself upright, falling with a soft thud back across Ben's sleeping bag, noting mildly that the bag was drenched in Ben's scent of citrus and pine, and in a way, it brought him a small reprieve from his sudden, inexplicable pain. He tugged his sleeves over his hands, rolling them in his fists and wrapping his arms tightly around himself. Sickness rippled through him and he squeezed his eyes tightly shut, an effort to fight the nausea, body shivering uncontrollably.

There was a sound at the front of the tent, a shuffle of footsteps, a rustle of the flap being pulled back. Someone entered and then there was a pause. Jimmy grimaced, fought back the terrible feeling surging through him, further aggravated by the knowledge of who stood in that tent's entryway, and sat back upright. He peeled his eyes open in minute slits, and glared out at Ben. The other boy wore a mixed expression of stunned confusion and uncertain concern.

"Jimmy…?" Ben started quietly.

"Where were you?" Jimmy spat out, his head didn't feel nearly so light anymore and the chill had left him but the nausea remained.

Ben dropped his gaze, flickered his eyes back and forth a moment across the tarp floor covering, as if his lie were written there.

Jimmy scowled, shaking his head and hissing, "Don't bother."

He struggled to make an appearance of effortless ascent to his feet and fixed Ben with the most spiteful look he could muster, relying heavily on the pain still ripping through him and the focused effort to stand upright to twist his features into a hard line.

"Where's the compass?" Jimmy demanded.

"Oh," Ben mumbled, sounding almost disappointed.

He shook his head and never raising his eyes, maneuvered to the back of the tent where Jimmy had pushed his duffel bag and squatted beside it, opening one of the side pockets and procuring the requested item. He trudged reluctantly toward Jimmy and held the compass out, eyes still downcast. Jimmy reached for the compass, grabbed hold of it and readied to spin on heel and hasten retreat, but Ben refused to let go.

"The only reason I would ever lie to you is to protect you," Ben whispered, lifting his eyes up to lock on Jimmy's, shadowed with emotion and burning intent, "You should know that."

"Whatever," Jimmy grumbled, tugging the compass out of Ben's grasp and starting for the exit. He paused, his hand on the flap, and the compass clutched to himself. The silence between them cut like a guillotine, heavy and exacting. Bitterly, he asked, "How many Skitters did you get?"

"Three," Ben murmured, somber and unhesitant.

Jimmy spun round to face Ben again and seethed, "Why?"

"Because that's how many were there," Ben answered uncertainly, brow wrinkled in confusion. Jimmy shook his head, furious, took a step forward and hesitated.

"No, you asshole. _Why_? Why lie to me about it? Why?"

Ben shrugged, searched the floor again, shoving his hands into his pockets, shoulders slightly slouched.

"How long have you known?" he asked and Jimmy flinched, his free hand balling into a fist, his other wrapping tight enough around the compass to turn his knuckles white.

"How long have you been lying to me?" he shot back.

"You haven't known that long," Ben stammered, surprised, his eyes darting up to Jimmy's face.

"What the fuck does that matter?" Jimmy snapped, "What does it matter how long I've known? What matters is that you looked me in the eye and lied to me, you bastard …"

"Jimmy," Ben began, a desperate plea.

"And the whole time…the whole fucking time…" Jimmy spat out, "I can't believe I trusted you. What else have you lied to me about? Fuck, have you ever told me the truth? How could I trust anything you've ever said to me…?"

"You're overreacting," Ben protested as a contortion of emotion creased his features, "This is the only thing I ever lied to you about and I only lied to you about it because I didn't have a choice."

"Why was the truth not a choice?" Jimmy sputtered, flabbergasted by Ben's admission, "The only thing you could do was lie to me every fucking night about where you were and what you were doing, and like a fucking idiot, I just took your word for it, even when I knew…deep inside I knew…"

"I couldn't tell you the truth because if I did you'd want to come," Ben rattled off, and then fell silent, dropping his eyes once more as his words slammed hard through Jimmy's chest.

"Because that would have been the worst fucking thing in the world?" Jimmy whispered harshly.

"No, it's not that…it's just…"

"That's how much you think of me then," Jimmy murmured realization, a stinging in his eyes, his throat clenched, hardness formed in his chest, "That you're so much better than me. Go ahead and finish the sentence, Ben, go ahead. I couldn't keep up; I'd just get in the way. You're the super-powered half-Skitter freak and I'm just some brat kid that everyone expects'll get himself killed before the day's out."

"That's not it; you're putting words in my mouth. I'm trying to explain," Ben cried.

"I get everyone else thinking it…but _you_? Even you really think I'm that fucking worthless?" Jimmy cried out, squeezing his eyes shut, unable to take anymore he turned to leave again.

"That's bullshit, Jimmy, you're worth more to me than pretty much everyone in this entire fucking camp put together," Ben argued, rushing forward to grab hold of Jimmy's wrist, and Jimmy halted at the touch, his body quaking with terrible emotions, "Please don't go. Let me explain, please. I can explain."

Jimmy drew his breath in, it trembled and burned all the down his throat and into his lungs. A couple stray tears escaped down his cheeks and he ground them furiously into his skin with his open palm. He felt as though his entire world were unraveling. Hell, he knew he wasn't good enough for Ben, he'd always known, but for Ben to validate it in so many words, it hurt too much, he couldn't stand it.

"Let me go," he bit out in a low growl.

"No," Ben whispered petulantly, "Not until you agree to listen to me."

Jimmy flinched, a jolt of pure rage ripping through him. Where did Ben always get off telling him what to do? He jerked his arm from Ben's loose grasp and reeled round to connect his fist across the other boy's jaw. It couldn't have hurt Ben, Jimmy knew he didn't have the strength to ever really do any damage to that other boy, but Ben still looked pained all the same from the strike.

"I was going to tell you," Ben said, his voice soft and distant.

"Yeah, when?" Jimmy sneered, taking a step back and wrapping his arms self-consciously around his body.

"When you were ready," Ben murmured.

"Never, then," Jimmy bit out.

"No, I mean…" Ben shook his head at the ground. Certain that Jimmy wasn't about to take off again, he stalked to the back of the tent and attempted clarifying, "It hasn't even been a month since you _almost died_, Jimmy. You were in bad shape. You're still in bad shape-"

"I'm fine," Jimmy protested.

"No, you're not. You're…alive. But you're not fine," Ben shot back, "You think you are because you're too goddamned stubborn, you just push yourself too hard, and you never want to admit when you've had enough."

"That's bullshit," Jimmy interrupted, "Dr. Glass gave me a clean bill of health, and you think you know better than her? Why don't you just admit what the real reason is, Ben? The Skitters turned you into a super-charged freak and now you don't need anyone, right? Including me?"

"That's not true," Ben intonated fiercely, turning round to face Jimmy once more, "I do need you. I don't get why you think like that! I need you, Jimmy, that's why I couldn't tell you the truth, because I need you so much and…" He faltered, lowered his face and looked up at Jimmy through a haunted expression, "It's me, not you. _I'm_ not ready. I'm not ready to face the possibility of losing you again."

Jimmy fell quiet, dropping his eyes to scan the ground. It was a little difficult to come up with an argument against that kind of confession. His heart pounded rampantly in his chest, heat flooded his cheeks and swarmed his limbs. He startled when a gentle touched brushed across his shoulder, looking up to meet Ben's eyes.

"You're still favoring your right leg," Ben mumbled, "Every time you take a step, you get this wrinkle under your eye, it's so small, but I see it every time. Same way I see how often you bring a hand up to rub your shoulder, when we're out on patrol, when you're just sitting around camp. You're still hurting, Jimmy, I know that you are, and I think you're just so used to pretending like you're not in pain that you don't even realize when you are anymore but I do."

Jimmy shook his head, ran a hand across his face. He didn't respond.

"I'm sorry I lied to you. I shouldn't have done that. It was wrong. I'm so sorry for that," Ben continued, his voice becoming firm and unwavering, "But I will never apologize for caring about you, for wanting to protect you; never."

Jimmy shoved his hands in his pockets, maneuvering around Ben and wandering into the tent a little ways. He chewed his inner cheek thoughtfully, his head felt light, he was struggling to keep his breathing steady. It was all he could do to keep his expression unmoved, because he wasn't sure what emotion was ready to pour out.

Ben stayed paralyzed near the tent entrance, waiting silently, probably for a reply, a gesture, a look, anything that might confirm Jimmy had heard and understood him.

"What about me?" Jimmy murmured.

"What?" Ben prodded, following Jimmy with his eyes, and quirking a brow.

"I'm just supposed to be okay with you going out there alone?" Jimmy returned, facing Ben again. His tone remained low and soft; his shoulders trembled as he spoke, "Know that you're out there with no back up? Watch you return every night with bruises and gaping wounds, covered in your own blood and who-the-hell knows what else? Wonder if you're even going to come back at all..."

"I'll be okay, I take precautions," Ben replied.

"Really? Didn't you just come back from a hunt? Where's your rifle, Ben?" Jimmy questioned, "You faced off against three Skitters without a gun or backup? What the fuck kind of precautions are you taking?"

"I'm careful," Ben insisted, "I never take on mechs. I always count the enemy before I go in; if there's more than I can handle by myself then I walk away. I promise. I'm being safe."

"'Safe would be not going out there at all," Jimmy said sharply, "Why are you even doing this? I know you get restless but this…"

Ben opened his mouth, closed it again and shrugged.

"I don't know," he whispered.

"Goddammit, Ben, what the hell…?"

"I hate them," Ben interjected, seething, "I hate them. I hate what they did to me, to my family. What they did to you."

"I hate them for all of those things too," Jimmy replied haughtily, "And that's why we're fighting the war, that's why we're in the resistance-"

"But it's not enough. We're not doing enough to fight back," Ben raged, "Like this alien structure, it was the perfect opportunity to strike and Weaver pulled us back because he was too afraid. I keep thinking I should just go in there by myself and tear it down…"

"No," Jimmy shouted abruptly, crossing the tent and grabbing hold of the front of Ben's shirt, but not entirely sure what he intended to do from there, he stood frozen with the fabric balled in his fist and his eyes desperately pleading Ben. In a harsh rasp, he whispered, "Don't even joke about that."

"Why? You think I can't do it?" Ben challenged.

"No, I don't know. But I don't want to find out," Jimmy rattled off. He hesitated, and then placed his hand gently over Ben's eyes, effectively blinding the other boy, and closing his own, resting his forehead against Ben's, he confessed quietly, fervently, "I need you too."

Ben said nothing. Jimmy dropped his hands to his sides, studying the ground, the inches that spanned between them. Their breath was the only sound for several heart-pounding seconds.

"I'll quit training the other unharnessed kids," Jimmy murmured.

Ben perked a brow, remained silent.

"If you promise to stop hunting by yourself," Jimmy pressed on, his stomach turned with sickness. He knew it was a terrible trick, offering up a bargain that basically meant he would give up nothing, but if it meant Ben's safety, he didn't care, "I'll stop training the other unharnessed kids."

"I thought it was important to you," Ben said bitterly.

Jimmy shrugged.

Ben slumped a bit, as though all the energy, all the crashing emotions, from their fight suddenly left him all at once and he barely had anything left in him to hold himself upright. Several seconds ticked by, several heartbeats pounded relentless against Jimmy's chest, and then finally, Ben gave a stiff nod.

"Fine, I'll stop," Ben whispered, "I promise."

Jimmy sighed in relief, closing his eyes, "Thank you."

"Tomorrow you'll tell Weaver?"

"Yeah," Jimmy murmured, "I will."

The quiet that followed was less tense, relaxed almost. Ben moved farther into his tent and took a seat on his sleeping bag, Jimmy turned to watch his movements.

"I guess this was our first real big fight," Ben noted.

"We've gotten in fights before," Jimmy muttered.

"Not like this," Ben remarked, then smirking, he teased in an almost uncertain tone, "So…you need me?"

"Shut up," Jimmy grumbled, rolling his eyes, and flustering.

"Are we okay?" Ben wondered.

"Sure," Jimmy answered, "I guess."

Ben pulled his knees up, balancing his arms across them and saying, "Come over here."

"Why?"

"Just get over here," Ben insisted.

Begrudgingly, Jimmy trekked towards Ben and plopped on the ground beside him. For a moment, they sat side-by-side in silence. Ben turned slightly towards Jimmy, hesitated for a few heartbeats, and then reached forward to curl his fingers under Jimmy's chin, tilting Jimmy's face to the side and brushing a kiss across his lips.

Jimmy sighed, "You should probably do something about that cut on your chest."

"Probably," Ben agreed, pressing another, more firm kiss against Jimmy's mouth and lingering there a few seconds. Tentatively, he joked, "See, that's why I need you. To point out the obvious."

Jimmy snorted softly, pushing Ben away as though angry, even as he covered a small smile in the palm of his hand. He had never been needed before, not in that way and he wasn't sure exactly what it meant, but the feeling inside of him was overwhelming and somehow, as frightened as he felt by it, he liked it. He would do anything for Ben; give everything of himself if that's what Ben needed, without hesitance, and he knew he could do it so easily. But it scared him how much he needed Ben, he who prided himself on never needing anyone before, and it scared him not knowing if Ben would or even could do the same, give everything for him.

Ben had so much power over Jimmy and Jimmy wondered if Ben was even aware that he could break Jimmy with something as simple as a word or a look, and that, perhaps, scared Jimmy more than anything else.

Because Ben said these things so effortlessly, 'I like you', 'I care about you', 'I need you', and though he sounded sincere and heartfelt, Jimmy couldn't shake the image of those books crammed carelessly along the edge of the tent, tattered and torn, ready to be thrown out the moment they'd exhausted their use.

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A/N: Right, there we have the long overdue big fight scene. Let me know what ya'll think please!

Reviewers: For the Rick thing, because most of you commented on it, you all know I agree that Rick was a character killed off in his prime...at least, I would feel that way if I'd seen the episode where he died. Anyhow, I've ranted about it before and I will again because I'm highly opinionated. I feel like the Falling Skies writers are really trying to set this show up as "dark and edgy", unafraid to kill characters off all willy-nilly, and it's not to say there's anything wrong with that, some shows do a fantastic job of it (see Walking Dead for instance, or Misfits is a great one), but I don't feel like Falling Skies really builds up their characters enough to give the viewers reason to feel anything but robbed when a character dies. I don't know, for me, from the beginning they would have things happen that were supposed to be a huge SHOCK but I was always like, "hm...okay, whatever." I think its mainly because the characters don't feel it, so it all just comes off as contrived. For example, when Jimmy died, none of the characters cared! Ben was pained, but it was hard to tell if it was because he blamed himself or if he was really just sad to lose Jimmy. Weaver was briefly sad at the end in a not at all touching moment between Ben and him, where they exchanged a few awkward lines referencing something about Jimmy's character (his terrible sense of direction) that we didn't previously know because it was NEVER established in the show! We see Tom upset only because his son is upset. That fight scene with Pope over the compass made me want to find a Falling Skies writer and punch them in the face. And then we see Dr. Glass sad in the worst scene of the entire fucking episode because, goddamn you, Jimmy, having the audacity to die on her son's birthday, boo-fucking-hoo, and oh look, now Tom is taking advantage of the death to get some nookie! And then we don't see anyone else greiving the loss although he associated with other characters. It's like, "Jimmy died? Jimmy who?" Damn Hollywood writers, to think some of these guys are making six-figures for this crap. End rant.

Haley, you're so right about Ben. It's hard to say if Jimmy would or wouldn't understand, but Ben should at least give him the opportunity. SassySavanna190, I love random questions. Um...although I think it would be cool to be deharnessed and have those super powers, I really wouldn't want the dark worry of "am I still under alien control" and I definitely wouldn't want to have to go through the horrors of being harnessed to get there. I would much prefer being a fighter and I'd probably put a bullet in my head before ever letting myself be harnessed (kind of like Jimmy). Brief side-note, one thing I never got about the show, why are there civilians? I understand elderly and small children not being able to fight, but not all the civilians are elderly, small children, or in any way, shape, or form incapable of fighting. In this scenario, anyone able-bodied would be a fighter. It's the apocalypse for crying out loud. JDMlvr1, of course I will continue to update through finals. Your guys' reviews help me get through mine! Greg, you don't by any chance think Ben is adorable do you? Cookie97, thanks for kicking me into full-blown rant mode. I'm so glad you're happy to see Rick. IcicleLilly, lol, I'm glad you found the chapter interesting. I know you were hoping Jimmy would lay into Ben with all his frustrations, so here it is, I hope you enjoyed it!

Thanks for stopping in you guys. I have an essay to write! Hope to hear from you all and I'll see you guys...Thursday, at which time my finals should be over and I will be getting my ass in gear pumping out chapters on this fic!


	21. Chapter 21

A/N: Yay! My finals are done! I have no idea how I did, but I'm ecstatic it's over!

Ack, bad week for reviews it seems...huge thank you to those of you that managed to stop in and drop a few words! You guys are too awesome. I'm hoping the quiet is because people were just as busy with school as I was...either that, or Ben and Jimmy's fight shook them up so much with emotion they were struck speechless :D.

Thank you to Greg for beta-ing.

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XXI.

Although it was still very early morning, Weaver's headquarters were already a bustle with fighters reporting in and accepting new assignments. Jimmy hesitated in the hall outside of the classroom a moment, carefully mulling over what he would tell Weaver. He'd checked the injury on his face that morning in one of the bathroom mirrors. Most of the swelling had gone down, the bruising was still evident but it had faded as though several days old, and the cut on his lip was practically non-existent.

At least that was a relief for Jimmy. He didn't exactly feel like explaining that the reason he needed to scrap his assignment was because he'd gotten into a fist fight with the de facto leader of the unharnessed teens. Roman may have started it, but Jimmy was certain Weaver would view it as a personal failure on Jimmy's part; a better teacher would've been able to reel the students in and take command of the classroom.

Jimmy sighed as the thought occurred to him that maybe he should just tell Weaver the truth. Weaver would lose respect for him no matter the excuse he came up with; he might as well at least have the decency to be honest.

When the last of the fighters left the room, Jimmy gathered himself up and stalked in, his heart dropping swiftly to the floor. Weaver and Dai were both standing at the front of the room, as if this confession wasn't going to be difficult enough to deliver to one of his mentors, but now he would have both as audience. Weaver barely glanced up at the sound of Jimmy shuffling forward, though Dai paused to stare at him thoughtfully a moment.

"What do you need, Jimmy?" Weaver questioned gruffly, his eyes surveying a map sprawled across the table in front of himself and Dai.

"I wanted to talk about my assignment. The training the unharnessed kids one," Jimmy murmured. Nervously, he brushed the hair from his face, though it fell right back into place, and he subconsciously fidgeted with his sleeves. Weaver cleared his throat and straightened, hands on his hips.

"About that, I talked to Roman last night," Weaver said and Jimmy felt as though punched in the gut, all the air fled instantaneously from his lungs. At least it saved him the trouble of having to explain but he couldn't help wondering how much more of Weaver's respect he lost by not being the one to deliver the news himself.

"Oh," Jimmy stammered, dropping his gaze to the ground, cheeks flushing and eyes blurring with a line of unbidden, frustrated tears, "Sir, I don't…I didn't mean…well…I know what…I did what I…"

"I'm impressed with you, son," Weaver remarked and Jimmy faltered, brow shooting up in surprise. That wasn't exactly the admonishment he would've expected. Typically and with obviously good reason, Weaver disapproved of physical altercations amongst members of the group, especially between fellow fighters. Things were bad enough without the last bits of humanity turning on one another.

"What?" Jimmy gaped.

"I thought you'd have a bit more difficulty with those kids, but Roman says you're a great teacher," Weaver continued, causing Jimmy to falter, brow scrunching and air seeming to coagulate in his lungs, "Says you know your stuff and he's really learning a lot from you."

"I…we didn't really…" Jimmy shook his head and ran a hand across his face, trying to put the pieces together in his head. What game was Roman playing at?

"You look surprised," Weaver laughed, and then candidly commented, "I'm not. I knew you were the right man for the job. Tell me, what's your impression of them? You think they're going to be alright out there? You think they'll be able to keep up with Ben?"

"I…I don't know…sir," Jimmy murmured, he cleared his throat and straightened at attention, stating more firmly, "I'm still getting a feel for them. They're kind of…a mystery…still."

In surprisingly new ways, it seemed.

"Well that's certainly understandable," Weaver replied, sounding only slightly disappointed at the answer, "They aren't going to spill all their secrets to you right away. That kind of trust takes time. I think you know that better than most."

Jimmy nodded, remained silent, spiraling from this strange turn of events. Now how the hell was he supposed to back out of this assignment? It seemed easy before, when the unharnessed kids hated him, and he felt certain it wouldn't be safe to stand in the same room as them anymore, let alone with them armed on the gun-range, but with them singing his praises to the captain, heralding him as a great teacher, it made things a little more difficult. He couldn't exactly cite conflicting personalities as the reason for his needing to back out of the assignment if he was the only one who had conflict.

"How would you feel about taking them out on a trial run?" Weaver questioned, and Jimmy perked a brow.

"What?" he said dumbly.

Dai smirked, rearranging some of the photographs on the table as Weaver folded his arms over his chest and shifted his weight, walking a few steps forward.

"One of the scout groups brought back intel on a shopping complex that looked like it might have viable resources still in stock," Weaver explained, "The area is fairly clean, there's been reports of some alien activity but for the most part it'd be an easy run. I don't have many experienced fighters I can spare for it and I figured it would be good practice for your greenhorns."

Jimmy bit into his inner cheek and frowned at the ground. This wasn't going at all the way he planned. Weaver silently watched as Jimmy weighed his options: he could tell Weaver the truth – even though he wasn't entirely certain as to what that truth was anymore – or he could invent some excuse although he had enough trouble coming up with one when the truth was a lot less confusing but not quite the better option, or he could back out of his deal with Ben.

"I need an answer, son, we don't have all day," Weaver prompted gently, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and eying Jimmy askance.

"Sir…I don't…" Jimmy faltered, shoved his hands in his pockets and glared hard at the ground.

If he told Weaver he couldn't continue the assignment, then he would just be letting Weaver down, he'd be letting the whole of the 2nd Mass down. Although Ben would stop hunting alone, he would still be the go-to for the most dangerous ops. Such a conundrum, it put at invariably harsh squeeze on Jimmy's heart. No matter his decision, he couldn't protect Ben. And though he wanted to go with the one that he knew would make Ben happiest, he had to go with the one that he knew might keep Ben safer in the long run.

"Okay, sir," Jimmy murmured, clearing his throat and straightening to meet Weaver's steady gaze, "That sounds like a good plan. I think Roman and his lot would be happy for the opportunity."

A broad grin broke across Weaver's weather-etched features, "Good. Good. I'll give you a run through of the details; you can spend today and tonight prepping with the others and head out tomorrow morning."

"Sure," Jimmy agreed, trudging after Weaver as they surrounded the map laid out across the front table.

The only real preparation Jimmy needed to make was figuring out how he would explain this turn of events to Ben, he thought as a dark, horrible feeling swelled in his gut. He already knew that conversation would not go over well. If Ben didn't approve of him training the other unharnessed kids, it wasn't a difficult puzzle how Ben would handle the news that Jimmy would be heading into battlegrounds with the four.

"You'll be taking Ben with you," Weaver said, smoothing the wrinkles out of the map of their current area.

Jimmy felt the air knock from his lungs, nodding distantly and nibbling his inner cheek. At least now he knew what he would be saying to Ben. Oh yeah, they were going to have a fun conversation very soon.

"If he's going to be working with those four, then they need to get a feel for one another," Weaver explained, then lightly remarked, "Also…I feel kind of bad, I had to ground him to camp for what he did during the last op. He needed to be disciplined, but he really did think he was doing the right thing for his unit."

Jimmy furrowed his brow. He frowned, remained silent. Ben hadn't mentioned being 'grounded'; of course, Ben hadn't exactly mentioned doing anything requiring disciplining last op. The only reason Jimmy knew Ben had gotten in trouble at all was because of Roman, though Weaver certainly seemed of the impression that Jimmy would be well aware of that situation.

"The location of the shopping complex is right here," Weaver continued his briefing, plucking up a pencil to indicate on the map with its granite tip, "You'll take the interstate up this direction. Unfortunately, the long route is your only option, we've got heavy enemy traffic here and here and also here. I'm going to let you take a pick-up truck, the black diesel. How you feel driving?"

"Anthony and Dai have been giving me lessons when they have time," Jimmy mumbled, glancing acknowledgment to the aforementioned young man, who briefly flickered a look up at the younger boy and gave a short nod of his head before pouring his attention back into his own work, "But that one's stick shift…"

"I understand Doug has a bit of experience with that, you might want to discuss with him and see if he might be up for the drive, but let me know if you need someone. I'm giving you a bike, too. Set Ben up on that, he can be your front guard."

"Alright," Jimmy replied, "What about armaments?"

"You comfortable giving them all rifles?"

"I guess," Jimmy shrugged, "I've barely just started them on the shooting range, though, sir. They've used the AK-47s, and that's really about it."

"You shouldn't run into anything out there that'll require gun use," Weaver determined, "As a precaution, give them a rifle and clip each but if you do run into any trouble, plan on you and Ben being the one's doing the fighting. I really just want them familiar with working as a unit, give them a rundown of the hand signals we typically use in battle, formations, tactics, familiarize them with clearing an area and protocol out in the field. Just because we have to rush training, doesn't mean we can't be thorough about it."

"Right, sir," Jimmy conceded, absently running a hand across his face and along the back of his neck.

"You gonna be ready for this?" Weaver piped question, peering up at Jimmy from beneath the brim of his gray-green hat.

Jimmy peeked at him curiously, not fully comprehending the question.

"Taking point on this mission," Weaver clarified and Jimmy dropped his gaze. He hadn't realized it, but being the most senior fighter on the op put him as lead. His heart gave an exaggerated thump against his ribs, and he grimaced, folding his arms over his chest and stiffly nodding.

"Yeah, I think so…sir," Jimmy replied, his voice pathetic and quaking.

He knew he should be excited. He'd pushed so hard to reach this place: standing in this room, in front of this man, having this conversation. It didn't seem fair that he finally earned a semblance of respect as a fighter, only for it to be tainted by circumstance.

Jimmy was only there because his relationship with Ben made him the only viable candidate as teacher for the unharnessed kids. And if that weren't a hard enough pill to swallow, he would have under his command four unruly, unpredictable, volatile rookies that refused to listen to him, and a fifth soon-to-be very pissed off super soldier notorious for doing what he wanted, when he wanted, everyone's including, maybe _especially_, Jimmy's concerns and desires be damned.

Thrilled, would be the word Jimmy was looking for, yes, he was completely and entirely thrilled.

"You're going to be fine," Weaver commented, clapping Jimmy across the shoulders.

Jimmy smirked sardonically at the table, scanning the items sprawled across its top. Suddenly, his interest in Weaver's debriefing and his own sticky situation was gone. He wrinkled his brow, his jaw unhinged, and, without thinking, he took a few steps closer to the table and reached forward to pluck up a photograph from the mess.

It had to be a closer shot of the alien structure Weaver had been planning to destroy before being advised against it by the intel group, after all, the picture was in the same mess of photographs from the area. However, in the center of the structure was an oddly familiar mass, both iridescent and radiant, and crawling with Skitters.

"What's wrong?" Weaver questioned, concern edging the fine lines of his face. Dai paused, as well, watching the young boy with an unreadable expression.

"I've seen this before," Jimmy mumbled, self-consciously handing the photograph back and rubbing his arm absently as he spoke, "There was one like it…in the warehouse."

Weaver and Dai exchanged looks, and then both refocused on Jimmy. Jimmy took a small, subconscious step back and ducked his head down sheepishly, flustering at the sudden attention and wondering if he'd said something wrong.

"We scanned that warehouse looking for you, saw no evidence of anything like this," Weaver stated firmly, wagging the photograph in the air for emphasis, "Are you sure this is what you saw?"

"Yeah," Jimmy confirmed, shrugging, "Before I pushed the button. It was in the warehouse, coming up from the basement. There were all these Skitters with it. I think I destroyed it though; I tossed one of the explosive packs at it. It was gone when I woke up."

"And you're sure," Weaver pressed, "Because that was a rough moment, you would've been confused and disoriented-"

"I remember, sir," Jimmy cut in, unintentionally sharp toned, dropping his chin once more to glare at the ground, "That's exactly what I saw. It might not have been as big as that one in the photograph…and it was less…solid looking…and it was moving but I guess because it's a picture…"

"It moved?" Weaver interjected, "You're sure of that."

"Yes, sir," Jimmy insisted, "It moved. And there were…like…images or something inside of it and…"

"Why are you just now telling us this?" Weaver interrupted.

Jimmy swallowed hard, taking another small step back and shrugging. Weaver sounded angry, and understandably so, Jimmy had withheld valuable information, and though it was unintentional, it was a grievous error on his part, and he wouldn't be surprised if Weaver kicked him back to night watch and civilian duties for it.

"I don't know…I forgot. I'm sorry, sir," Jimmy stammered, wincing at the quiver of his words, and hating himself for sounding so weak in front of these two men that he, more than anything, wanted to view him as strong and capable. He flinched when a heavy hand fell to his shoulder, peering up in surprise at Weaver, features softened.

"It's okay, son," Weaver said kindly, "It wasn't a good day for you. I couldn't expect you, or anyone, to make note of those kinds of details, meaningless when taking into account you were running for your life. You remember now, and that's what's important. Take a deep breath, now, and calm yourself. Try and recall anything else that you can."

Jimmy nodded stiffly and closed his eyes, darting the tip of his tongue out to hastily wet his lips. He drew his breath in deep and let it out slow, flashing back on that not-so-faraway moment in time, when he burst through the corroded door in that fated warehouse in search of an exit, escape from the inevitable explosion and the mech on his heels, and found on the other side an army of Skitters, a mass more alien than anything he'd seen thus far in the invasion, and the loss of all hope he might survive that mission.

"It was in the middle of the warehouse. There were Skitters everywhere…I think they were guarding it…I don't know. They were on it, all over it…and it was weird…it didn't seem like they should be able to walk on it; it didn't look like it should hold them up. It was smaller than the one in the picture looks," Jimmy whispered, trembling slightly, he could still feel the heat of the explosion licking across his skin, could still remember those thoughts that should've been his last, images of Ben, his friends in the 2nd Mass, and of his family lost forever, "That's really all I remember, sir. I'm sorry. I tossed the explosives at it, pushed the button and then…that's it. There wasn't any trace of it ever having been there when I woke up. I don't know if it blew up or…if the Skitters moved it or…or what."

"Okay, that's good. That's very good," Weaver said, giving Jimmy's shoulder a squeeze before releasing him and wandering back towards the table. Weaver met Dai's eyes and remarked, "You know this means we might be able to destroy that thing."

"Maybe," Dai allowed, and then added, "If Jimmy is right about the one in the warehouse being destroyed. There was plenty of time for the Skitters to move it, though, too. It never made sense why they retreated so quickly that day."

Jimmy shifted uncomfortably as Weaver and Dai talked, he didn't feel he should be hearing the discussion, as though it were above his rank. He certainly understood the implication of his freshly reported information. If there was a chance they could destroy the alien structure, they might want to pursue it after all. And if they wanted to pursue it, then that meant Ben would be elected to get thrown in the fire again.

"That did cross my mind," Weaver murmured, stroking his chin thoughtfully, and Jimmy felt a growing dread. He didn't like the expression on the good ol' captain's face, or the thoughts he could easily predict churning inside that grayed noggin. Weaver was definitely considering Jimmy's worst fear of the moment.

"We should stay focused on the move," Dai recommended, "We still don't have enough information, and there are a lot more Skitters on this new structure than there were at that warehouse."

"I'm aware," Weaver said, then looking back to the silent young boy standing across the table as though suddenly remembering him, "Jimmy, do you think you could get this shopping trip underway by this afternoon?"

"I don't know…sir…that's really cutting it short…it was already short notice…" Jimmy stumbled through his words, taken aback at the sudden shift in gears.

"I realize that, son, but we're kind of strapped for time," Weaver returned.

Jimmy tensed, folding his arms over his stomach and tightening them around himself, as the puzzle pieces fitted together in his mind.

"You want to send Ben and the others to investigate that building," Jimmy realized, gesturing to the photographs haphazardly spread across the table with a jut of his chin.

"We all want to make a significant strike against the enemy, this is the way to do it, but I promised Hal I wouldn't send Ben down there without backup," Weaver confirmed.

"I don't know if they'll be ready…" Jimmy started.

"Then get them ready," Weaver returned, "I have faith in your ability to turn those four into suburb fighters."

Jimmy sighed softly, balling his hands into fists. This meeting really wasn't going remotely as planned. He'd gone in there with the intention of never seeing those unharnessed four again, and now he was discussing prepping them to go on a mission he'd happily hoped scrapped for good with Ben. He started at a throaty noise from Weaver, glancing the old man warily.

"Listen, I don't plan on sending those four anywhere until you think they're ready," Weaver assured Jimmy, "But we need to get them out on missions and soon. We don't have the luxury of month-long boot camps, and you know that."

"Yes, sir," Jimmy murmured, straightening and giving a curt nod, it was difficult to force himself to make just that small a movement, to make words come out of his mouth, "I'll do my best to get them ready. We'll head out for the shopping complex as soon as possible…how long should I….?"

"Keep them out there as long as you need, but try not to spend more than…say…three hours, and that's pushing it," Weaver answered, "Run a few scenario drills, but mostly, I want you to find out how they work with Ben."

Jimmy scrunched his features but said nothing. He had a pretty good hunch how they might work with Ben but he thought it better kept to himself at that moment.

"Let me know full details of what you plan out there before you leave, alright? And listen, Jimmy, I'm putting a lot of responsibility in your hands, you understand that, right?" Weaver asked.

Jimmy took a deep breath, pulling his shoulders back and lifting his chin up a bit, he answered, "Yes, sir. I understand."

"Good," Weaver returned, "Don't let me down. You're dismissed. Rally your unit and start prepping for the op."

"Yes, sir."

Jimmy gave a short salute and, without another word, spun on heel, hurrying from the room. The door fell heavy behind him and he leaned back against it, head swimming as he replayed the meeting in his mind, over and over again. His heart raged in his chest, and his legs threatened to buckle beneath him. Suddenly, and too late to be of any help, a thousand excuses, denials, arguments leapt onto his tongue and his stomach lurched at the realization of every single one.

Shuddering, letting the frustration rush through him, Jimmy drew himself up, winced as he bit into his inner cheek hard enough to draw blood, and then strode forward in search of the various members of his 'unit'.

Ben should come first, Jimmy knew, but he wasn't eager to spill the news of their new assignment to the other boy yet, so he decided instead to head for the fringe of camp where he was certain he would find Roman and the others.

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A/N: Right. And who though Jimmy was really going to get out of his new assignment? Yeah, I didn't think so...

Let me know what you think please! Really, it doesn't have to be long (though I love the long ones), something like, "it was awesome" or "that sucked" or "hey, bitch, why aren't Jimmy and Ben sharing that tent yet, we all know they want to and nobody else sleeps in there...", you know, something to let me know you guys are still reading. :)

Reviewers: JDMlvr1, I hope by "painful", you meant emotionally and not awkward, not well written painful. Thank you for the luck, I hope your finals are going well! SassySavanna190, all are very good questions...none I can actually answer, but you'll see how they all turn out eventually, you'll see (a cheeky grin accompanies that sentence, so you know). Glad you liked it, hope you find this one just as great, and I'm glad you decided not to be harnessed. We'll be fighters together, compete with Skitter kill counts and whatnot, it'll be awesome. IcicleLilly, yeah, I can't give the boys rainbows and sunshine just yet. A very interesting thought on Jimmy's strange new affliction...interesting indeed...

Thanks for the reviews you guys, I'll see you all on...Sunday!


	22. Chapter 22

A/N: Thank you to the reviewers and a thank you to Greg for beta-ing.

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XXII.

Because of the spikes it hurt Ben to lie on his back. Though they were filed down as best they could be, at the right angle and with the right amount of pressure – surprisingly little – they could tear through fabric and other textiles with an unfortunate ease. Since getting the harness removed he'd ruined a lot of blankets, sleeping bags, t-shirts, cots, pillows, and sheets. It served as a lingering reminder that even something as simple as sleep came with a price for a half-alien, and it left him wondering how high the price something more complicated – like, say, love – would be.

Jimmy had left the tent shortly after 'making up' with Ben. He'd claimed he needed to take a walk, clear his head and sort through everything that had been discussed, of course he hadn't said this in so many words, it actually went more along the lines of, 'I need a smoke', but Ben understood the underlying message: Jimmy needed to get away – _away from Ben_ – to process.

Ben understood, sort of, Jimmy's need to analyze his emotions before accepting them. Understanding didn't make it hurt any less, but it certainly helped keep him calm and rational despite.

Ben had collapsed across his sleeping bag the moment Jimmy slipped from the tent, burying his face in his arms and squeezing his eyes shut, trying to get his own bearings straight after the heated encounter. He thought of the confessions that had come out, and flinched, realizing how close he had come and how miserably short he'd fallen of three stupidly complicated, misleadingly simple little words.

If he had to be honest, they had been on his tongue, lined up at the tip, ready to shoot forward in the confusing blur of the moment. Hell, they had been on his tongue for days, weeks, who-the-hell-knew-how-long, in the brevity of those sweet moments when he was allowed to hold Jimmy in his arms, or in the long drawn out moments apart spent silently hoping, wishing, desperately praying to be reunited soon with Jimmy, and it was actually becoming physically painful holding the words in.

And what if they did come out? What if he did say those words? Ben groaned, propping his chin up on his folded arms and glaring at the crumpled corner of his sleeping bag. Though he had used a damp rag on the outskirts of camp to hastily clean up, he was still sticky with blood and ichor, and still reeked of Skitter innards.

Ben drew his brow together, pressed his lips into a thin line, and dwelled momentarily on the events miles outside of camp. Three dead Skitters was hardly a loss in the world, but he couldn't help connecting the missing chunk of time with the horribly sickening moment when he'd grasped Jimmy by the arm and violently wrenched him back into place.

Ben shifted, stretched his arm out in front of himself and flexed a hand open and closed a few times, turning it over to examine its contours. Though he recalled his emotions at that moment, pure rage, he couldn't remember much else. One moment he was upset because Jimmy wouldn't listen to him, was disregarding him and his judiciously upset emotions, and the next, Jimmy was crying out in pain and he was the reason.

Three dead Skitters, Ben closed his eyes and curled his fingers tightly into his palm, three little words with a price set far too high.

Ben collapsed into his arms again, rubbing his face haggardly back and forth a few times and grunting against the skin. He was agitated because of the promise Jimmy forced him to make: stop hunting. He could already feel the adrenaline coursing through him, the energy bouncing uncontrollably through his veins. An argument, a couple chaste kisses, and already Ben felt on edge, despite having only just returned from a hunt and a long run. He was getting worse, he couldn't deny that anymore.

Ben sighed, pushed himself up and gracefully rose to his feet. He would visit the showers, then, another heavy sigh, visit Dr. Glass.

Outside, the damp gray haze of early morning had settled across the horizon. A few of the 2nd Mass civilians were beginning chores for the day. They paid Ben little heed when he passed by towards the community center. The showers were thankfully empty that morning. He drenched his upper body with cold water, soaking his sullied shirt, and knocking the icy droplets off with a swipe of his hand then swiftly exited the community center once more.

Though they were in the middle of the autumn months, and the layers of clothes people had taken to wearing evidenced that the temperatures had dropped dramatically in recent times, Ben didn't have much regard for the climate. His alien-altered body seemed to retain heat more easily and though he acknowledged the cold, he sensed it almost distantly as though he were recalling the feeling of being cold and not actually experiencing it at that moment; he didn't quite feel it anymore. Moving across the front lot of the community center towards the medic van through the chill air in a light t-shirt, his upper body clearly saturated, he managed to cause a few double takes from civilians in passing, but no one's attention lingered long on him. Just the half-Skitter freak behaving like a half-Skitter freak, nothing to raise alarm about.

Ben rapped the medic van's side door then waited a few seconds for a response. He could hear rustling inside, and though he wasn't so adept with his 'super' hearing that he could easily identify who was in there, he could definitely discern that it was at least a person. He knocked again, and waited. Footsteps slowly padded that direction and the door flung open, a groggy Dr. Glass peering out through squinting eyes.

"Ben," she greeted around a wide yawn. She brushed her hair from her face and folded her arms over her stomach, "Sweetie, what are you doing here so early in the morning?"

"I didn't mean to wake you," Ben replied nervously. He was never certain how to behave in front of the doctor, because of her role in camp she knew more about him than possibly anyone else, and that in and of itself was somewhat unnerving, but then there had also been something unspoken but undeniably sexual between his father and her that, in light of his mother's too recent death, he wasn't entirely certain he approved of, "I can come back later."

"Oh no, you're fine…please, come in," Dr. Glass instructed, moving aside and ushering Ben up the tiny steps with a quick wave of her hand. Ben obliged, clambering into the van and the door _whacked_ shut behind him.

The 'medic' van was really an old Winnebago, gutted of most nonessential parts and refashioned for the 2nd Mass's purposes with a couple extra cots, cabinets, curtains, and such. Medical miscellanea lined the walls and were stuffed in the overhead compartments. The place usually smelled of blood and bleach, sterilizers, gauze, ethanol. It really was a dreary place but, despite its homey appearance and clinical odor, Dr. Glass spent more time inside of the medic van than anywhere else in camp.

"I fell asleep out here," Dr. Glass admitted, stretching her arms to the ceiling and causing a series of cracks and pops along her spine and shoulders. From the sounds and looks of things she didn't fall asleep lying down. She finger brushed her hair quickly and attempted in vain to straighten out her disheveled garments.

"That happens a lot lately," Ben noted quietly, and she glanced at him curiously but remained silent, his eyes dropping sheepishly to scan the medic van floor. He didn't feel like following up that peculiar comment with the explanation that he could _hear_ her in the medic van sleeping; she was a smart woman, she could surmise as much on her own.

"Yes, well, I've been working late in the night, recently," she explicated, "I'm the only legitimate doctor for miles around and, unfortunately, I am trained as a child's physician. Luckily, I guess if you want to see it that way…well, majority of the 2nd Mass are children, but not all of them, and most medical needs that arise are beyond the scope of a physician's work, so, you might see how that poses a bit of a problem."

"Yeah," Ben allotted.

Dr. Glass motioned to the thick tomes that lined one of her shelves, and then pushed her long, loose, dark strands of hair absently behind her ear and leaned against the countertop that lined part of the van and was the remainder of the 'kitchen area'.

"I've been staying up reading when I have the time," she continued, "Trying to bulk up my knowledge on more relevant medicine."

"Makes sense," Ben said, and then smirking distantly, wondered in a humored tone, "You didn't happen to stumble across any passages about 'alien genetic engineering', did you?"

Dr. Glass grinned, bit her bottom lip to stifle back her laughter, and shook her head, joking, "I haven't yet, but you will be first to know when I do."

"Darn," Ben mock admonished, "Really could use that information right about now."

"Oh?" Dr. Glass straightened, her features contorting into grave concern, "What's going on? Is everything alright? Have the spikes been acting strangely? Have you noticed any change-"

"Calm down, I'm okay," Ben interrupted sharply, holding his hands up in surprise at the sudden tumult of questions. He shrugged, wandered to one of the cabinets and poked about disinterestedly, as he quietly confessed, "I've just been feeling weird lately, more restless than usual."

"What do you mean by 'restless'?" Dr. Glass prompted, as she found her stethoscope draped across a coat rack and tossed it around her shoulders, crossing the van towards Ben. He watched her movements warily from the corner of an eye, keeping his attention for the most part focused on the items in the cabinet; vials of various liquids labeled with names he didn't recognize and probably couldn't pronounce.

"Just…a lot of energy; I've been sleeping less," Ben answered, stepping away from the cabinet and meandering towards one of the cots, partially fibbing, "I've been going out running a lot. I run farther and longer every night, and it doesn't seem to be helping." He sighed, lowered his eyes as a bit of color touched his cheeks, "…and I'm worried about Jimmy."

Dr. Glass perked a brow, folded her arms over her chest, "What's wrong with Jimmy, sweetie?"

"Well," Ben murmured, fidgeting with the bedspread on the cot, his heart pounding in his ears, his cheeks especially red, "When I get restless sometimes…I go see him…and…well we…"

"Oh," Dr. Glass interrupted, flustering though only slightly, she was still a professional after all, "I see."

"Yeah," Ben cleared his throat, and ran a hand along his neck, avoiding the few spikes jutting there as he whispered, "It was okay at first, but now…" He closed his eyes, and sniffled loudly, "I'm wearing him out."

"Has he said anything?" Dr. Glass questioned gently.

"No," Ben muttered, and then shrugged, "It's Jimmy. He won't say anything. But I know that it's hard on him. I can't help it though and..."

"Ben, sweetie, if it's not a problem for him," Dr. Glass began tentatively.

"What if it becomes a problem for him?" Ben cut in, spinning to face Dr. Glass, "What if something happens to him because of me? Because I can't control…?" He trailed off and dropped his eyes to the ground, "I just wondered if there was something you could do…about the restlessness…"

"I'm not sure," Dr. Glass admitted. She pursed her lips together, and studied Ben a moment, "I could run a few tests…but the best I can suggest is to keep doing what you're doing. Find ways to burn off the excess energy. I'm not sure entirely what that harness did to you or the others, what it's continuing to do to you. I wish I had the resources to find out but…"

Ben shook his head and ran the back of his hand across his mouth, then nodded stiltedly.

"Yeah, I figured you'd say that," he retorted, sounding far harsher than he intended.

Dr. Glass was only trying to help and it wasn't her fault that she didn't have the equipment necessary to better examine his condition. The best she could manage was a check of his vitals and an offering of sleeping aid, not that she would offer, there was no telling how the medication might affect his altered physiology.

"Do you talk much with the others?" Dr. Glass inquired, and Ben startled, glancing her curiously. He didn't have to think hard on who she meant by 'the others'.

"What for?" he demanded.

"Comparison of symptoms, maybe," Dr. Glass answered easily, "Moral support mostly. You're all going through similar, if not the same exact things. I know that your life is very confusing right now; your body isn't your own anymore. You all went through things that no one but one another could ever understand. I know that Rick and you feel more cut off from the other four, they lost their spikes and whatever the harness did to them, if anything, seems minimal at most, but they suffered too. It might help you to overcome some of those apprehensions, maybe to better understand the changes or try to work through them, if you discussed it with others that are going through the same things."

"I don't need to talk about it," Ben said firmly.

"Sweetie," Dr. Glass started, then sighed and shook her head, "I know talking is the bane of any teenager's existence. You would much rather suffer silently than expose those emotions and worse, leave yourself vulnerable to scrutiny, but you are a smart kid, Ben, and I know you realize that there are certain benefits to letting it out and there are undeniable detriments to keeping things bottled inside."

Ben scowled an unintended reaction to Dr. Glass's advice. Dr. Glass sighed, leaned back again and stared distantly at Ben a moment, examining him, assessing him.

"Do you talk about it with Jimmy much?" she wondered.

Ben relaxed slightly at the shift of conversation back to the somewhat comforting topic of his lover. He shrugged; it was the best he could manage because there really wasn't an answer. The two boys talked often, on occasion the harness came into their conversations, but they never really spoke directly about it.

Admittedly, Ben didn't want to talk about it with Jimmy. Jimmy accepted that Ben was once harnessed and he tolerated the spikes, and Ben couldn't be more thankful of that. It had to be difficult for the other boy to look past them, they weren't exactly an attractive feature, but Ben didn't really want to push the limits of that acceptance and toleration. Simplest terms, Ben didn't want to find out what Jimmy really thought of the spikes or of him as a 'razorback'.

Not to mention, Jimmy had enough hardships on his shoulders without Ben tossing his own troubles on top of the load. He wanted to lessen Jimmy's burden, not add to it.

"Ben," Dr. Glass chastised, "You cannot keep this up. If you need someone to talk to…"

"We talk about it," Ben interrupted, lying through his teeth, "Jimmy and me. We talk about it. A lot. And he's great. Or as great as he can be…it's Jimmy. Were you going to run tests now or….?"

Dr. Glass looked skeptical but, to Ben's relief, didn't press the matter. She motioned for him to take a seat on one of the cots and rummaged in the cabinets for various items.

"I'll do a standard check-up and then draw some blood, alright? I don't have many options when it comes to tests I can run on your blood-work but…I'll make do," Dr. Glass said as she pulled up a chair beside Ben and settled in for the examination.

Dr. Glass started with blood pressure, pressing her fingertips gently to Ben's wrist and counting as she watched the second hand tick by on her watch, then she felt Ben's lymph-nodes for abnormalities and any swelling, then placed her stethoscope center of his chest and then either side of his mid-back and listened to his heart and lungs. Every so often she would pause and jot something down, routine physician behavior.

For the first several minutes as she worked, Dr. Glass remained relatively silent, issuing brief, soft commands when necessary and though Ben found the quiet unnerving, it was not as discomforting as any conversation he imagined they could possibly hold, especially not after the one they'd just had.

"How is Hal doing?" Dr. Glass questioned and Ben flinched involuntarily.

"Okay, I guess. Why?" Ben returned.

"I haven't seen him in several days," Dr. Glass answered earnestly, recording notes on Ben's condition and smiling faintly up at him, "I worry about you boys…what with your father…" she faltered, focused her attention back to her writing.

Ben felt a cinch on his heart and a strange rush of anger flood his body.

"We're fine. You don't have to worry about us," he snapped.

Dr. Glass fidgeted with her pencil a moment. Her gaze, set on her notes, was slightly unfocused. She drew her breath in deep, let it out slow, and then nodded thoughtfully.

"I don't mean to overstep," she apologized, "Your father has been a good friend to me in the past and I promised him-"

"It's okay," Ben cut in sharply, keeping his eyes locked on the cabinet across from him, avoiding looking at Dr. Glass altogether as he spoke, voice stiff and perfunctory, "Hal and I are both fine. And we're grateful that you help watch Matt. Thanks. You needed to draw blood, right?"

"Um…yeah," Dr. Glass murmured, setting aside her notes and fumbling for a fresh needle. She unpackaged it and motioned for Ben's arm, expertly locating a vein and sliding the needle in. It pinched slightly, but Ben barely registered the pain. He rarely noticed most pain those days, and even then it had to be drastic; just another after effect of the harness.

Dr. Glass contained and labeled the drawn blood, putting it aside with Ben's paperwork. She swept her hair back with both hands and smiled at Ben.

"All done. Vitals seem…normal…normal for you, anyhow," she announced, "I'll take a look at the blood later today. There's an empty nurse station in the back of the community center, I keep thinking I should set it up as a temporary medic office, but then I keep worrying if I do we'll-"

"Need it?" Ben suggested. Dr. Glass smirked glumly.

"Yes, and then we'd have to leave in a hurry," she confirmed, "Did you need anything else, sweetie? Any questions, concerns?"

"No, I think that's it. Thanks, Dr. Glass," Ben muttered, standing and starting for the exit. He paused, turned slightly back and Dr. Glass perked an inquisitive brow at him, "Actually….you don't…maybe…have anything for sore muscles, do you? Like an ointment or anything?"

"I do," Dr. Glass said brightly. She crossed the van to one of the cabinets and dug around inside, producing a small red and white tube. She handed it over, and instructed in a half-teasing tone, "Apply as needed to the affected area. Return it later, okay?"

"Yeah, I will. Thanks," Ben murmured, pocketing the item, "I'll…um…see you."

He didn't await a response, clambering hastily out of the medic van and letting the door _thwack_ shut behind him. Outside, he started back to his tent only to pause a few meters short as he caught sight of a familiar form slinking out of the community center and striding towards the outskirts of camp. His brow pinched together in confusion even as a broad grin broke across his features.

"Hey, Jimmy," he called out and the other boy stumbled to a halt, eyes darting agitatedly around before ultimately stopping on Ben.

"Hi," Jimmy whispered greeting. He folded his arms over his stomach almost protectively, his muscles were all visibly held tense, and his chin tipped low and eyes flickering back and forth every so often. He seemed a little worked up, which was understandable, he'd gone to see Weaver about his current – or by now former – assignment.

"How did it go?" Ben wondered in a sympathetic tone, bridging the distance between them.

"Fine…it went okay," Jimmy stammered response. He took a couple steps back and Ben halted his advance, watching the other boy warily.

"Was Weaver mad?" Ben asked, worry quaking in his words. Weaver's opinion meant everything to Jimmy, if the captain had shown or verbalized any discontent in Jimmy's decision to back out of his assignment, it would crush the boy.

"Uh…no…not really," Jimmy carefully answered, examining a patch of dirt, as he cleared his throat and whispered, "He actually wants us to go on a supply run tonight at a shopping complex nearby."

"Us?" Ben repeated, gesturing between himself and Jimmy questioningly.

Jimmy nodded confirmation and Ben grinned.

"Really?" Ben exclaimed, "That's awesome. I've been so bored at camp since he cancelled my op."

"And grounded you," Jimmy murmured.

"Yeah and grounded…" Ben faltered, slumping his shoulders and wincing as he realized he hadn't exactly shared that information with Jimmy, "Oh."

"Yeah," Jimmy agreed.

"I was planning on telling you about that," Ben hastened to explain.

"It's fine," Jimmy cut in, insisting, "It's really okay. There was…uh…no time to talk about it. You can tell me about it later…" He paced away a few steps, rubbing the back of his neck absently.

"Okay," Ben conceded, relieved if not incredibly surprised that his failure to mention sneaking off in the middle of an op to hunt Skitters and being duly punished for it wasn't about to turn into another blow up, "Later it is then. Erm…what time do we leave?"

"Just as soon as I…uh….tell the others in our group about it," Jimmy meekly replied. Ben frowned slightly.

"Oh, others. Great. Of course. Who else is coming with us?" Ben questioned, then pleaded, "Please tell me not Hal."

"No…not Hal…." Jimmy meandered away then turned back and wandered aimlessly towards Ben again, pausing a few feet short and hanging his head as he studied the toes of his boots.

"Good. I can deal with anyone else but Hal right now," Ben lamented.

"We're taking the other unharnessed kids," Jimmy mumbled.

Ben faltered. He had to repeat Jimmy's words in his mind several times before he could even begin to process their meaning, so of course, in his brief disorientation, he dumbly asked, "What?"

Jimmy tilted his head to the side and watched Ben, his eyes wide and shimmering some odd, almost frightened emotion.

"Roman and his lot," Jimmy quietly clarified, "They're coming with us."

"Why?" Ben demanded, heat rushing straight to his head. He narrowed his eyes on the other boy and folded his arms across his chest.

"Because, it's what Weaver ordered," Jimmy answered forcedly nonchalant. His words were growing softer, beginning to waver and crack.

"_Why_?" Ben seethed.

"Because…." Jimmy murmured, shrugging, "They need the practice…and…this way I…uh…can drill them on…scenarios…and…battle…tactic stuff…"

Ben had to choke down several breaths before he could even attempt speaking. He ran his hands over his face and stalked back and forth a few times, his entire body felt as though crawling with ants.

"This is how you stop training the unharnessed kids? By taking them on a practice op?" he growled.

"I know, Ben, I just…." Jimmy fumbled for explanation but couldn't seem to find one, so he fell silent, glaring miserably at the ground.

"Just _what_? Goddammit, Jimmy, what the hell happened in there? What did you tell Weaver? Did you even bother telling him anything at all?" Ben cried, "This isn't even remotely what we agreed."

"I…well…" Jimmy opened his mouth, closed it, and buried his face in his hands, "I don't know."

"Obviously," Ben griped, "How exactly do you mix up 'Weaver, I can't train them' with 'Weaver, send me out into the battle field with them'?"

"Would you calm down, please," Jimmy hissed, glancing nervously around camp from behind his palm, as though expecting to find a crowd of onlookers, "So things didn't go quite how I planned in there, it's not the worst thing that could ever have happened."

"Or maybe it went exactly how you planned," Ben retorted.

Jimmy's brow cascaded together, a strange flash of pain cut across his eyes.

"What is that supposed to mean?" he demanded unsteadily.

Ben shook his head, balled his hands into tight fists, anger bubbling through him like acid in his blood. There was a taste, almost metallic, in the back of his throat, and a sort of ringing in his ears. He could feel that static in the distance, pushing out the hairs at the base of his neck.

"I think I was pretty clear on my meaning," Ben grit out.

"You think I planned for Weaver to send us on this op?" Jimmy whispered stunned, "What the hell? Why would I….?"

"Why would you agree to train them in the first place?" Ben asked heatedly.

"I told you-"

"Bullshit," Ben snapped, "You really expect me to believe that you just took pity on them?"

Jimmy flinched, shuddered and pulled his arms tighter around himself, mumbling, "What other reason do you think I would have?"

"To get Weaver to stop giving me missions," Ben said, "Stick me on the sidelines."

Jimmy lowered his eyes to the ground, his mouth parted slightly. It was the only confirmation Ben needed, and it ripped right through him. He turned his face away, glared at the line of houses across the street from the community center. What exactly did a relationship mean, what did any of it mean – 'lover', 'boyfriend', whatever the words were – if one was trying to undermine the other?

"What time do we leave?" Ben questioned.

"Whenever we're ready…" Jimmy mumbled.

"And how long will we be there?" Ben pressed.

"Three hours at most."

Ben nodded, "Good, plenty of time."

"For what?" Jimmy wondered, peeking up at Ben, his expression a mix of confusion and fear.

"For me to go hunting," Ben coolly replied.

"But…you promised…" Jimmy stammered.

"No. We had a deal. You didn't keep your end, but I'm still expected to keep mine?" Ben scoffed, "I don't think so. We'll do Weaver's stupid practice mission, and then I'm going out hunting. Alone."

"Ben," Jimmy whimpered, "Please don't…"

"Don't you have a unit to debrief?" Ben snapped, agitated by the emotional break in Jimmy's soft voice and the way it cut right through him, the jagged edge of a hot, serrated knife, splicing his heart, "Let's go find the others then and get this the fuck over with."

Jimmy seemed on the verge of saying something, his jaw slightly slack, his feet firmly planted to that one spot on the ground, but seconds ticked by and not a single sound escaped his throat. Finally, he slumped slightly, and turned, haggardly crossing the campgrounds.

Ben watched Jimmy's retreating form a moment, let several feet span between them before following after.

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A/N: See, I mentioned in an earlier a/n that they kept fighting. I swear, I couldn't get them to stop.

Please let me know what you think!

Reviewers: IcicleLilly, I'm happy the finals and semester are over too! So far, I've gotten one A back. Hope yours went okay as well! Sassysavanna190, lol, yes, Ben was not happy. And Roman is a bit of a sly one...FacePalmer123, that was my other assumption. Fandom's getting a bit stagnant...I didn't understand half of what you're message said but I gathered you became interested in some other fandom. Which is fine, I can understand that. I hope you do catch up on reading someday, I'll miss your reviews. JDMlvr1, good prediction, no make-up kisses. Maybe next chapter? Haley, I missed you last chapter. Glad you liked it! Cookie97, it's okay, I'm just glad to know you're still reading!

Uh...quick announcement that will make no one happy. I am going to be taking a hiatus on updates over the Christmas holiday. So the last update this year will be on the 23rd, and then I won't update again until Jan. 3rd of the new year, assuming we don't all perish on the 21st (I jest, of course, world's not ending. Put the ten-year-long supply pack of toilet paper back on the shelf). I plan on hopefully getting this story completed in that time so that I can come back updating more frequently, but plans have a way of...falling apart, so we'll see how that goes.

Otherwise, I'll see you guys on Thursday!


	23. Chapter 23

A/N: Oi, I had to make mini-quiche for a potluck at work today. They turned out beautifully, but it made me late to update. Sorry!

Thank you to the reviewers, you guys are so understanding and awesome. I will definitely work on finishing this story over the 'break'.

Thank you to Greg for beta-ing this, he's apparently going through some stuff, so I'm especially grateful that he took the time to look it over.

Read!

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XXIII.

The four unharnessed kids were predictably found on the farthest outskirts of camp. They had set up inside and around an old station wagon. Gia was apparently napping in the open back seat, Kelsey sat in the front with a book, and Doug and Roman were sitting on the hood playing a game of cards. The boys paused, turning to glare, as Jimmy and Ben approached. Ben stopped short several meters back and Jimmy paused a few feet from the car.

The entire left side of Roman's face, where Jimmy's knee had connected during their scuffle, was painted a particularly sickening array of black, blue and purple, tinged slightly green at the edge of all the bruising. He only darted a quick look to Jimmy, before focusing his dark, intense stare on Ben. Doug's eyes, trembling, were locked on Ben as well and Ben returned the ominous glares with a particularly heated one of his own.

Jimmy couldn't help feeling somewhat like a chair or table, as though he were some inconsequential piece of furniture, the way those three boys paid him so little mind. He cleared his throat and shifted his weight from foot to foot, self-consciously shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Weaver wants me to take you four out on a quick practice scout," he announced, though his voice was barely audible, like the rustle of leaves. His words whipped away on the wind and faded into a finite silence. Somewhere an owl or some other crepuscular bird cooed softly.

Jimmy looked between Doug and Roman, and then turned to peer over his shoulder at Ben. Ben's eyes were narrowed almost dangerously on Roman. Jimmy shuddered; he didn't quite like the glint in those soft brown eyes. Ben wore a strangely dark, terrifying expression, a snarl twisted on his usually pliant, pleasantly drawn lips.

"What happened to your face?" Ben growled question.

"What happened to yours?" Roman returned snidely.

A stone cold weight dropped in the pit of Jimmy's gut. From the tone in both the other boys' voices, things were about to turn ugly fast.

"Clever comeback, what five year old did you steal it from?" Ben muttered, folding his arms over his chest and persisting against the obvious warning, "How did you get so much bruising? You don't actually do anything around camp. Did you run into a wall or…?"

"Isn't that sweet? He's concerned for your well-being, Rome," Doug mocked under his breath, flicking the cards in his hand against his thigh, "Maybe there is something human left in him."

Roman scoffed and shifted his intense gaze to Jimmy, "Is there a reason you brought your razorback with you, brat, or did he just follow you here like the average mongrel?"

Jimmy shrunk back from Roman's sudden attention swap, heat flooding his features, and his heart slamming straight up to pound erratic in his head. The older boy certainly hadn't lost much of his edge, despite having indisputably lost their earlier scuffle. Ben perked a brow, his features screwing into puzzlement, as he studied Jimmy out of the corner of his eye.

"Weaver wants Ben to come with us," Jimmy explained, struggling to keep the stutter from his words. He shrugged sheepishly, and grumbled, "To see if you can all work together."

"Isn't that a little premature?" Gia's voice piped from the car's backseat. She was lifting herself up, groggily rubbing the sleep from her eyes, "He doesn't even know if we'll make good fighters yet and he already wants to see if we can play with the big gun?"

Roman tipped his chin down, obviously not pleased with Gia's insinuating word choice, although it caused Jimmy's lip to twitch involuntarily into a slight smirk. Roman talked big but at least they all recognized that Ben was the seasoned fighter. At his back, Jimmy could hear Ben shuffle a bit, probably wearing a sheepish expression to match the nervous fidgeting, in a rare moment being adorably modest instead of his usual adorably arrogant.

Kelsey slipped from the front of the car and sidled up next to Roman, keeping her head ducked low and pinching her fingers in the hem of Roman's t-shirt.

"It's just convenient, is all. I need another experienced fighter with me for this trip, Ben has nothing else to do, and sooner or later you'll have to work with him if you want to be fighters, so…yeah," Jimmy rambled off explanation.

"Or he's rushing us," Roman challenged, from his tone it was obvious he wasn't asking but stating exactly what he knew to be true, "Because something urgent suddenly came up."

Jimmy glanced quickly back at Ben who perked a curious brow at him. He sighed, lowered his head and glared up at Roman, even as he could feel Ben's heated stare at his back.

"The alien structure," Jimmy murmured, "Weaver might want to go through with the attack on it…if….if you guys can keep up with Ben."

Ben made a noise low in his throat, almost like an animalistic growl, it was a kind of muted angry sound. He retreated away a few steps, shaking his head angrily at the ground. Roman sneered, his focus returning to Ben.

"Looks like Weaver needs us to pick up your slack, Mason. He doesn't trust you to go in on your own anymore?" Roman jeered.

Jimmy scowled, "That's not why," he turned round and whispered hastily to Ben, "Weaver just doesn't want you going in there alone."

"Why didn't you tell me about this before?" Ben hissed in return, locking his eyes on Jimmy's own.

Jimmy shrugged, shrinking back and darting looks between the four teenagers gathered around the car and Ben. At this rate, they were never going to make it to the shopping center; Weaver would have his answer as to whether those five could work together within half-an-hour of doling out the mission. And at the crux of this soon-to-be-failed experiment would be Jimmy; he couldn't control his students, he certainly couldn't control Ben, he was just a failure that never should have been trusted with such an important assignment. It was starting to look as though all in one shopping trip he would be losing his first mission on point for the 2nd Mass, Weaver and possibly also Dai's respect and trust, and – Jimmy's heart gave a pathetic thump against his chest – Ben.

"I…well…that's because…" Jimmy scrambled for an excuse but he couldn't get his tongue to cooperate, it suddenly felt too large and thick and heavy in his mouth.

"Probably because he can't form a clear sentence," Doug quipped, "Honestly, Mason, what do you see in this kid? Everyone knows it can't be the clever conversation, you couldn't pry a syllable out of him if you had a crowbar."

Jimmy faltered, the insult slamming right into his chest and knocking the air clean out of his lungs, his head light and reeling out of control as unbidden tears suddenly dotted the corners of his eyes. He wondered it often enough, what could Ben possibly see in him, that he probably should've been better prepared for someone else to make that same observation but instead it just about shattered him completely. He was so knocked off balance by the comment, that he almost didn't register Ben advancing towards Doug, yet somehow he managed to pull himself back to reality in time to throw himself in front of Ben, struggling to hold the raging boy back.

"Don't talk about him like that," Ben roared.

Doug slipped off the car hood as though prepping himself for battle, Gia crawling out of the backseat to stand anxiously at his shoulder. Roman remained seated, staring unimpressed at Ben's display, Kelsey quiet beside him, her wide eyes gazing blankly out at the scene before her.

"Could everyone just calm down," Jimmy pleaded, his forearm braced across Ben's chest, as he used his entire body weight to hold Ben back and even that was barely enough, "Will you…please….just stop? Shit…Ben, stop. Doug, shut up."

"Okay, we'll play," Roman announced.

Ben paused in his struggle to take his pent-up angers out on the obnoxious Douglas, returning his dangerous glare on Roman. Jimmy relaxed, straightening and dropping his arm to his side, his eyes curiously fixed on Roman as well.

"We'll go scouting with you, brat," Roman continued, and Jimmy could sense the way Ben beside him seized at that little meaningless sort-of-nickname, "And we'll attempt to play nice with your razorback. That is, if he can play nice with us."

Ben snorted lightly, turned his face away to study the horizon. Jimmy shoved his hands into his pockets, eyed the ground and waited, the distant sounds of the 2nd Mass waking for the day like a roaring ocean in his ears.

"Fine," Ben agreed.

Jimmy took a deep, steadying breath. He looked to each of the five gathered, and quietly exclaimed, "Great. Let's go start making plans."

Jimmy and Ben led the way into the community center, the other four lagging significantly far behind though still following. They held conference in one of the smaller classrooms, Ben and Roman positioned themselves as far from one another as possible, with the others scattered in between them.

For the first hour or so, there was a lot of arguing. Jimmy made small suggestions but remained silent for the most part, he wasn't accustomed to making the plans, just following them. So he let the others throw out ideas and it seemed everyone had something to say: some concern, some disagreement, some half-cocked scheme or wishful thought.

Eventually, the plan settled on Ben and Jimmy splitting the four rookies up between themselves. Despite Ben's protests, Jimmy would take Roman and Douglas, Jimmy didn't think the three hot-headed boys could be trusted together but he felt confident that he could handle the two older boys by himself. They were obnoxious but for the most part meant Jimmy no harm. As long as they kept their insulting comments focused on Jimmy and for the most part left Ben out of the conversation, Jimmy knew he could tolerate them.

Ben would take Gia and Kelsey. Gia seemed more than capable of taking care of herself and Ben was better at keeping a clean mouth than Jimmy, which should deter most of the tension in their group. Kelsey on the other hand, Jimmy felt she may need more protection in battle than the other three rookies; she still flinched at gunfire and cowered constantly behind her three older friends. Ben could more readily protect her than Jimmy but Roman wasn't thrilled with the decision and voiced it in a slew of insults that ended on a threatening note, 'keep her safe if you know what's good for you'. There was an added benefit to splitting Kelsey from Roman that Jimmy didn't mention aloud; it gave the younger girl opportunity to develop more independence. She relied too heavily on Roman's presence and it hindered her training to become a fighter.

Jimmy's team would clear the east side of the complex; Ben's team would take the west. They would come up on the complex from the south side, meet up on the north end. Once they had a secured perimeter, Ben and Jimmy would let the four others search the stores in the complex for much needed supplies while they maintained the perimeter and directed the four on protocol.

When they were finished looting whatever resources they could find, Jimmy and Ben would lead the four on a few scenario drills, that way they had the job completed and could leave in a hurry if need be without the trip being a waste.

Plans hashed out, Ben went to collect the artillery and any other items they might need while Jimmy instructed his four students on basic hand signs used in the field and a rundown on formations. He also rehashed gun safety, although he emphasized that neither none of the four teenagers were expected nor should they find themselves in a situation in which they would have to fire the guns or, for that matter, actually be able to shoot anything.

"We barely just learned how to shoot, though," Gia complained at one point, "What if something does attack us?"

"Nothing should attack," Jimmy replied, though there wasn't much certainty in his tone. He'd been on enough scouts that were supposed to be 'easy in and out' that ended in dodging Skitter claws while racing through a hail of mech fire to know that the only guarantee in life was that if something could go wrong then it most certainly would, "The area is pretty dead of enemy troops, but if we do run into trouble, me and Ben'll handle it."

"Great. So our lives are in your hands?" Doug grumbled, clearly disconcerted by that revelation.

Jimmy shrugged, murmuring, "You can always stay behind."

"I guess we all got to die sometime," Doug returned, slouching down in his seat and exchanging a look with Roman, warning glinting in the older boy's eyes.

The matter didn't get pressed much farther than that and, short on any more information or advice to offer the four, Jimmy left to brief Weaver on his plans, retrieving the vehicle keys while he was there. Then he led the four to the truck they would be using, finding Ben waiting for them there, already loading a few items in the truck bed.

"You're on the bike," Jimmy told Ben, accepting an offered pack of fighter necessities: first aid kit, emergency provisions, etc., as well as his rifle retrieved from the community center and a couple of his knives: one with a serrated blade, and the other a two inch switch blade. He tossed the pack in the truck cabin and set his rifle next to it, strapped one knife to his hip and clipped the other one inside his boot. He handed over the key to one of the 2nd Mass's multiple motorbikes, marked with a color-coded keychain.

"About what I said before…" Ben started in a low voice, watching warily the other four teenagers as they clambered into the truck, whispering amongst themselves and for the most part putting on a grand show of paying the two boys no mind, though Jimmy was well aware that their full attention was on Ben and himself.

At Ben's words, Jimmy grimaced, tensing his shoulders and nibbling his inner cheek. He knew from Ben's tone that the other boy wasn't exactly revving up for an apology or a recant of his earlier promise, so whatever he was about to say was just going to be a practice in futility as far as Jimmy was concerned.

"What about it?" Jimmy grunted.

Ben opened his mouth, left it dangling unhinged a moment, then closed it again and murmured, "Forget it. Look just…be careful out there, okay? And…you know…keep an eye on those two."

"I'll be fine," Jimmy muttered, feeling agitated. It was weird, he always seemed to be having this conversation with Ben, as if he weren't capable of remembering to be careful, as if he had no clue to be cautious of malevolent intentions in another human being, as if somehow those six months – forget the thirteen years – he'd miraculously managed to survive on his own before ever meeting Ben had somehow been a fluke.

"Jimmy," Ben whispered, dropping his gaze, "Please just…"

Jimmy frowned, seething, "Please _what_, Ben? Do what you say without question? Follow your lead because you know what's best, because you're so much better than me?"

"Please can we not go out there mad at each other," Ben whispered haggardly.

Jimmy fell silent, slumping slightly as an odd pain thrummed in his chest. Ben glanced at the four teenagers waiting in the truck, and then took a small step closer to Jimmy, dropping his voice to just above audible, though Jimmy knew it was irrelevant, the four could apparently hear just as well as Ben.

"Anything can happen out there and I don't want the last thoughts we ever have of each other to be…" Ben trailed off, closing his eyes and squeezing the air hard from his lungs, "Be angry at me when we get back to camp but not right now. Please?"

Jimmy said nothing for a stretch of seconds that felt like years. He gazed out the corner of his eyes at the houses across the street, thinking absently, as he always did, about questions that seemed important though their answers were no more relevant in that present time than who won the World Series in 1980: who used to live in those houses, what kinds of people were they, how did they live their lives, what kind of work did they do, where they married, divorced, did they have children, did those children go to school, were they happy, were they miserable, did they die, were they alive somewhere in a different resistance or were they running, constantly searching for a sanctuary that didn't exist?

"I can't do that, Ben. I can't not be angry with you, not when I know what you plan on doing when we get back to camp," Jimmy whispered, darting his eyes meekly, briefly, to the other boy and regretting it the moment he caught glimpse of the pain contorted there. He squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed down hard his emotions, as he admitted, "If anything does happen out there, though…I promise…my last thoughts of you…they won't be…they won't be bad, Ben. I know that they could never be…"

Jimmy sighed, shaking his head and frowning at the ground.

"It's weird. I'm mad but I guess it doesn't actually mean anything," he muttered, "I'm only mad because I…because of…I care about you…so it doesn't really do anything, being mad…it just…"

"Yeah," Ben agreed. He put his hands in his pockets, eyed the ground a moment and then whispered, "Why don't we do something when we get back?"

Jimmy perked a brow, wondering bitterly, "What about your other plans?"

"Well, they're only kind of back up plans," Ben confessed sheepishly, "You know, in case what I really want to do is busy with something else…"

"What you really want to do…?" Jimmy repeated stupidly, and Ben smirked up at him. Jimmy dropped his gaze, flushing, "Oh."

A distant smile touched Jimmy's lips, his heart softly fluttering in his chest, warmth spreading through him, as Ben watched him with furtive, uncertain glances. One of these days Jimmy needed to learn how to stay angry with Ben for longer than it took the other boy to pout his lip and beg 'don't be mad at me', otherwise he would never win a fight, but it didn't seem like today would be that day.

"Were we going to be leaving anytime soon or would you like us to postpone this trip so that you two could work on your feelings? Maybe cry things out a little?" Roman called impatiently, if not somewhat frustrated, from the truck bed. Douglas beside him burst out laughing and Gia's lip curled up, looking the very picture of a satisfied cat.

Jimmy winced, burying his face in a palm to hide the blossoming red across his face, and Ben darted a dark look the older boy's direction, a low warning growl rumbling in his chest.

"Right, let's get moving," Ben bellowed harshly, and then in a light whisper to Jimmy, "I'll see you at the complex."

Jimmy nodded, watching Ben retreat towards the cluster of 2nd Mass motorbikes a moment before turning to the truck and climbing into the driver seat, Kelsey beside him in the cabin and the other three out in the bed. He turned the key in the ignition and fumbled a bit to remember how the clutch and gear shift worked, struggling just to get them both to move with his embarrassingly undersized and over worn muscles, and then he eased the truck out of the parking lot towards the street in line behind Ben on the bike.

Ben darted off down the road, shooting far ahead and quickly out of sight and Jimmy swallowed hard, heart staggering in his chest, pulling the truck out of camp and pointing it the direction Ben had gone, towards the shopping complex. He could feel Kelsey beside him, tense and anxious, and see the other three out of his rearview, making excited expressions and gestures, shouting, every now and then, exclamations quickly swept away on the wind.

As the comfortable suburbia where the 2nd Mass took shelter whipped by and gave way to an empty highway, Weaver's earlier question suddenly came back to ring portentously in Jimmy's ears: _are you ready for this_.

* * *

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A/N: And so there is the first real interaction between Ben and the other Unharnessed teens. More to come!

Let me know what you guys think, please! Thanks.

Reviewers: Faithful Harmony, thank you for dropping by with the review! I'm glad you're liking the story so much. SassySavanna190, lol, a little drama is good for the soul. Um...Jimmy's old friends...hm...I think I mentioned last story I was thinking about some of them coming into the story...I guess you'll just have to read and find out how that unfolds. :) WhisperMaw, it's always a good day when you have time to stop by! I was so very happy that you noticed the boys narrate differently! I've been trying to write them with distinct voices, so I'm so excited its sort of showing through! Thank you for that. No, no double update on this story...but...I would recommend checking the fandom around Christmas regardless, just in case Santa does drop you guys off something. I hope you have a happy holidays too! Cookie97, lol, that was my sentiments exactly! Not because I hate when they fight (conflict is the spice of life) but because I needed the story to go somewhere and their fighting wasn't getting it there! Oi vey. Boys, I swear. IcicleLilly, Greg'll be happy that someone else is on Ben's side in a fight...though I don't know how easy it would have been for Jimmy to say 'no' to his mentor, hero, and father-figure. I'm looking forward to Tom coming into the story myself, there will be plenty of family conflict.

Thank you guys for stopping in! Last update of the year will be Sunday and then I'll see you guys...on January 3rd.


	24. Chapter 24

A/N: Okay, so...last update of the year! I say it with such aplomb. :)

Right, so...I guess the last day of high school, a boy was arrested outside of my cousin's school with an assault rifle, so I'm a little shaken up. What the hell is the world coming to? Shootings and mass murder used to be out of the ordinary and now they're a weekly thing...I don't know.

Anyhow, thank you to the reviewers! I really wanted to reach 150 on last chapter, I don't why...I like things even...so I'm glad I got there. You guys are saving my sanity, one by one.

Thank you to Greg for beta-ing.

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XXIV.

The shopping complex was a forty minute drive from camp, and for Jimmy, those minutes ticked by in a discomforting silence. Kelsey sat rigid, straight-backed in her seat beside him, her eyes locked forward, shimmering like a frightened deer on the coming horizon. She had her frizzy hair pulled back in a thick band, but it looked to be under so much pressure bundled together that way, that Jimmy imagined the band breaking and it all exploding out with a comical '_boing_' sound effect. Her cheeks were splotched white and her lips were pressed so firmly together, Jimmy worried the top might permanently adhere to the bottom. She had her hands folded around one another, resting tensely in her lap.

Jimmy understood her apprehension. She was being thrown into the field without adequate training – barely just learned to pull the trigger on a rifle, still trying to figure out how to do it without recoiling in fear from the loud report that followed – and she would be out there without her usual security blanket, Roman, draped in front of her.

"It's going to be okay," Jimmy started, feeling he should say something. As the op 'leader', it was sort of his responsibility to rally the troops, muster up morale in the face of danger. Besides, he and Kelsey were much closer in age than he was to the three in the truck bed, he felt a little more on equal footing when speaking to her, "I remember my first assignment, I was so scared…"

"You really think that's going to work," Kelsey said plaintively.

Jimmy wrinkled his brow.

"I was just trying to…"

"I know what you're trying to do. Sympathize with me," Kelsey interjected, "Trying to connect with me by pretending you've been in my shoes, you understand what I'm thinking, what I'm feeling. Patronize me. I'm curious; did that ever work on you?"

Jimmy faltered, frowning and tightening his grip on the steering wheel. He flashed back momentarily to those first days he spent in the 2nd Mass's custody, plucked up out of the sewers of Dorchester. He could still vaguely recall the first things said to him by the now-deceased but then ranking captain of the group, 'I know that you're scared, boy…' and his own prompt, abiding response of, 'go fuck yourself'.

"No," Jimmy admitted, then quietly, "Sorry."

Kelsey sniffled softly, readjusted herself, turning her cheek to watch the world roll by.

"I'm not stupid. I know what's out there. We all do. We all know better than most. We should, shouldn't we?" she murmured absently.

"I suppose so," Jimmy conceded.

"Then don't treat me like I'm stupid," Kelsey whispered.

Jimmy sighed, let a few heartbeats pass before again attempting, "But listen, I know you guys don't trust Ben, but he really is the best person you can have watching your back. And I trust him. I would…I _have,_ many times, trusted him with my life and he always pulls through. Whatever is between you guys, it won't matter, he's a really good guy and he's very capable-"

"You trust him," Kelsey repeated, in a dull monotone, "Funny. You say that as if it's supposed to mean something to us. We don't trust _you_."

Jimmy winced and then shrugged half-heartedly. He couldn't exactly argue with her logic. It was true and in a painful way he realized, it was the same wall he was constantly hitting with the entirety of the 2nd Mass. He could praise Ben all he wanted but he was never going to get through, he might as well be singing 'Yankee Doodle' for all the weight his words carried to those four and to everyone back at camp. No one actually trusted his opinion, and why the hell should they? In the end, he was just some worthless, punk kid flapping his gums.

"You know that this whole assignment is pointless," Kelsey continued, turning her bored gaze back on Jimmy, "You realize that we don't want to work with him, he doesn't want to work with us, and you don't have the power, the strength, and the persuasive ability to change that."

Jimmy remained silent. Maybe she was right, maybe he couldn't build an alliance between those five, but he still had to try, didn't he? Because Weaver ordered it, because it was the best option for the 2nd Mass, because…because…Ben didn't think Jimmy was strong enough to hunt Skitters with him, and Jimmy knew he was right.

"Why do you think they want to be fighters?" Kelsey suddenly asked and Jimmy tossed a confused glance her direction.

"What?"

"We talked about why you wanted to train us, why _you_ want us to be fighters, but you never asked why _we_ wanted to be fighters," Kelsey pressed, "Why do you think that is – that we want to fight?"

Jimmy gaped, stammering, "I don't…I…to…I thought it was obvious, right? To kill Skitters, because you hate them…"

"Is that really enough of a reason? Because we hate the aliens," Kelsey retorted, "Is that your reason for fighting; because you hate them? Do you always kill what you hate? I don't. Otherwise, I would've killed you a long time ago."

Jimmy drew himself up, taken aback by her words. He knew she didn't like him, but hate seemed a bit strong. He couldn't think of what he'd done to deserve such a powerful emotion. Maybe he'd embarrassed her on the shooting range because she flinched at every shot? Maybe because of the fight he'd had with Roman, she didn't like that he'd kicked her bodyguard across the face and left that nasty bruise behind? Jimmy scowled, okay, maybe there were a lot of reasons she could have for hating him.

"Fine. Then why don't you tell me why you all want to be fighters?" Jimmy relented, less out of curiosity and more so to get the conversation back on track and off the grisly subject of him being murder. He kind of hoped they would reach the shopping center soon; the atmosphere in the cabin had grown suddenly cold and eerie.

Kelsey smirked, setting her shimmering gaze, no longer bearing resemblance to a frightened rabbit in Jimmy's mind, back on the approaching horizon.

"They want to be fighters because of what they remember when wearing the harness," she answered solemnly. Jimmy perked at that, his heart cinching in his chest.

"Remember when wearing…but wait…I thought you guys didn't remember anything from when you were harnessed?" he questioned.

"Is that what he told you?" Kelsey returned, gesturing with a nod of her head to the road in front of them, indicating Ben though he was far out of sight making sure their path was clear.

"Yeah…well…no," Jimmy mumbled, shifting uncomfortably as he realized, "We don't really talk about it."

"Maybe he doesn't remember," Kelsey allotted, "Maybe you remember less the longer you wear it. Or maybe…maybe you just want to remember less the longer you wear it. We remember though, we all remember. For them," she turned slightly to spy her friends in the truck bed out the corner of her eye, "Becoming a fighter means severing that memory once and for all. To fully realize that they're no longer under Skitter control, that they're able to think, feel, and make decisions for themselves."

"To rebel," Jimmy acknowledged.

"It's different for him, though," Kelsey remarked, again gesturing towards Ben, far in the distance, "He isn't fighting to forget that he was under their control. He's fighting because of those barbs in his back…"

"Well, yeah…"

"…because he's still under their control."

Jimmy clamped his mouth shut. His chest collapsed into itself, he couldn't breathe, and he couldn't think straight, everything hurt too much. He knew the rumors floating around camp about Ben, the typical ignorant fears propagated by those assholes who had condemned Ben the moment he was brought back to camp without so much as speaking one word with him, that Ben was still under the harnesses control, that cutting it away never actually cut away the bond the aliens had with him. However, they'd always been just rumors, no evidence to support them.

"What?" he gasped, it was all he could manage to push round the lump in his throat.

"That's why we can't trust him," Kelsey continued, her focus fixed on Jimmy, "That's why Roman said that you shouldn't trust him. Because you _shouldn't_, no one should."

"You don't know that," Jimmy argued, forcing his words from a stiff mouth and dead tongue, "He's done nothing but prove himself."

"I should know better than anyone," Kelsey replied, noting cruelly, "Have you ever worn the harness? You're the one that doesn't know. And you expect us to trust you? To take your word for it that he's a 'good guy' and that we can count on him to watch our backs?"

The shopping center was in sight now and Jimmy could see Ben already pulled into its lot, dismounting the bike and getting his bearings straight.

"I know Ben…" Jimmy whispered stubbornly. Slowing the truck and turning into the parking lot as well.

"Please. You don't strike me as the type to be so stupid as to think that you can ever really know anyone," Kelsey scoffed, "But let me know how that one works out for you."

Jimmy put the truck into park and Kelsey tossed open the door, slipping out and joining her friends, all of whom were hopping from the truck bed. Jimmy killed the truck engine and removed the keys from the ignition, his eyes studying Ben, the other boy clearly listening for any nearby evidence of the enemy. He wasn't sure how to feel about Kelsey's revelation, _we all remember_, and vaguely he wondered what Ben might say, were Jimmy to ask about what the boy remembered from wearing the harness. Would he admit it, tell Jimmy the true story of what he remembered, or would he lie and say he couldn't recall anything.

Jimmy scowled, shaking his head and angrily slamming his open palm against the bottom of the steering wheel, wincing at the sting it caused to shoot down his wrist, yet perversely satisfied of the pain. Why was he assuming that Kelsey was the one telling the truth and that Ben should remember?

Standing outside, listening intently in the midst of the lot, Ben quickly surmised that initial reports of the area as being mostly void of alien life were true. He couldn't hear the enemy. He shouldered his rifle and turned part way round, having heard the truck pull in moments before. He watched as the other unharnessed teens and Jimmy clambered out of the vehicle.

The four others grouped together, keeping Roman in their center, and whispering amongst themselves while Roman eyed Ben darkly across the lot. For the most part, Ben ignored the older boy, the behavior was childish at best, and regardless, Ben had a bit of experience from before the invasion dealing with such bullying tactics to ever let something so minor get to him. He set his focus instead on his approaching lover, feeling a pleasant relief in knowing they'd settled most of their afore tensions before driving out there because he would need the other boy's support in that mixed crowd, and finding himself suddenly concerned by the uneasy expression Jimmy wore.

"You okay?" Ben greeted, as soon as Jimmy was close enough to hear the quiet words.

Jimmy nodded stiffly, and returned, "Anything?"

"No. Far as I can tell, area's empty," Ben answered.

"Good. Maybe this trip'll go smooth," Jimmy muttered grumpily, easing his rifle against his shoulder and checking its barrel then gazing down its sight. He clicked a banana clip into place, and motioned towards the complex, "Well…?"

"You know, you never gave me an answer," Ben commented, as Jimmy called to the rookies to fall in line.

"Answer…?" Jimmy repeated, confused. Ben smirked.

"About later, when we get back to camp," he clarified. A bit of color touched Jimmy's cheeks and Ben ducked his head to hide his triumphant grin, knowing it would only piss the other boy off. It was always a victory bringing a blush to that pale complexion.

"Oh…that…" Jimmy murmured.

"Yeah, that," Ben confirmed.

"I'm…uh…thinking about it," Jimmy responded cheekily.

Both boys gracefully shouldered their rifles, stalking up towards the complex. Ben glanced once back at the other four, all of whom were given rifles of their own, though they had no clips. It seemed they'd learned something from Jimmy, having shouldered their own rifles, if not a bit clumsily, and were awkwardly mimicking the movements of the more experienced boys leading them across the lot.

"What's there to think about?" Ben teased in a low murmur, "You mean, you're not willing to sacrifice your body for the good of your cause to protect me from myself?"

"I'm thinking about it," Jimmy repeated, tossing Ben a mocking smile, before they split their separate ways. Roman and Douglas followed after Jimmy.

Ben sidled up next to the back wall of the shopping center and waited patiently, watching as Gia and Kelsey joined him, following his suit and pressing their own backs against the wall and looking to him expectantly. Both girls wore mirror expressions, pale and shaken. He smirked, not because he was enjoying their anxiety by any means, but because he recognized the feeling overwhelming them and knew that learning to rise above it would be their ultimate tests in the journey to become fighters. There was nothing he could say or do to help them pass that test, he could prep them with all the battle knowledge he or anyone had, and never be able to give them a single piece of information that could make it easier.

They wouldn't face this test during that mission, of course, perhaps they would on a later mission like that one, or maybe it would be on a special op or maybe it would be on patrol with a veteran partner walking beside them or maybe it would happen on an unsuspecting day back at camp with the enemy launching a surprise attack, Ben couldn't know. It happened at different times for everyone, and not everyone passed it and passing was regardless of whether one lived or died during the test. But it was a test every fighter would have to take at some point, because it was this test that determined the true fighters from the civilians in soldier's clothing.

Ben had been with Hal when he'd passed his own test, months upon months ago, managing to take down his first Skitter in the process. True to form, Jimmy had believed he'd failed his test on a routine night watch that saw him running for his life from a Skitter and mech, an event Ben had only heard about second hand from his father, but perhaps marking the first of many, many times he fell and fell hard for the other boy without ever realizing.

Ben signaled with his hand for the girls to sparse themselves evenly behind him and slowly started forward. The shopping complex stretched about a quarter mile long. There were seven inlets in the complex, including a Gamer's Station, Bart's Used Books, a store that doubled as a convenience and smoke shop, a liquor store, and a grocery mart that looked to have been family owned and was marked with a black and green calligraphic sign: 'Krueger and Son'.

Having already established that the area was clear of the enemy, Ben kept his attentions divided between the movements of Jimmy's team and the sounds of the girls following behind him.

Noisy.

All four of the other unharnessed teenagers were making far too much noise. They were clumsy, awkward, paid no heed to their heavy footfalls, or the scraping of their shoes across the pavement, they carelessly dragged their bodies across the wall, loudly rustling the fabric of their clothes along the way. They couldn't even keep their breathing calm and steady, the bushy haired girl trailing after Ben kept drawing her breath in sharply as though constantly being startled, and the behemoth that mouthed off about Jimmy earlier at camp was apparently a nervous mouth-breather. They might as well have brought a marching band with them to parade through the shopping complex with their bull-in-china-shop movements.

Ben could hear Jimmy – it took super ears to hear that deathly silent boy in motion – pausing infrequently, hissing commands or advice to the two boys trailing him, and Ben could hear clearly the snide responses they gave or the ones they muttered under their breath so that Jimmy couldn't hear, and Ben's blood boiled. Couldn't those assholes understand that, were this a real mission and danger was actually present, they would've given their location away long ago and gotten themselves and Jimmy attacked and possibly killed?

It was going to take all of Ben's willpower not to slug one or both of those boys when they reunited on the other end of the complex for not only stupidly endangering Jimmy's life but also having the audacity to be so nonchalant about it.

Ben paused against the back wall, halfway across the complex and waited for the girls to catch up. He glanced back to them.

"Pick up your feet," he whispered to the darker featured girl. Her hard expression relaxed momentarily as she processed his comment, then she nodded understanding when he explained, "You're making too much noise."

As for the other girl, Ben simply remained frozen and alert until her breathing staggered to a normal pace, and then he picked up their trek again. They made it several more meters before a clamorous noise on Jimmy's side brought Ben to a sudden halt. He strained to hear, holding his gun at the ready and running through different courses of action in his mind, fearful that if Jimmy were in real trouble at that moment he would never reach the boy in time.

"I'm fine," Ben heard Jimmy mutter and sighed relief until the other boy went on to say, "…now could you maybe….let me go?"

"Don't you think there ought to be a 'thank you' somewhere in there?" the older boy, Roman coolly remarked in return, and Ben subconsciously tightened his grip on his rifle. Why exactly did that asshole have his hands on Jimmy?

"Just keep moving," Jimmy stammered quiet reply.

"Right, you're the boss, brat."

Ben tensed, surging with a sudden burst of white hot adrenaline. Yes, he would definitely need all his willpower not to beat that older boy to a bloody pulp, and even then, it might not be enough.

"Are we going to keep moving?" the dark-featured girl silently wondered and Ben returned his focus to his team, nodding and starting forward again. They reached the other end of the complex first, waiting and watching round the corner for Jimmy and his two lagging rookies to arrive.

The moment Roman stepped into view, Ben averted his gaze to the surrounding area in an effort to also avert his furious rush of rage, scanning the roads and listening for any signs of the enemy. Jimmy strode towards him, rifle slung easy over his shoulder.

"How'd it go?" he wondered.

"Fine, they're loud but alert," Ben answered tersely, bubbling with barely contained ire as he skimmed over Roman and then Douglas, both of whom joined with the girls and were exchanging commentary on the behaviors and instructions of the more experienced boys, "How'd things go on your end?"

"Okay," Jimmy responded, shrugging, and Ben felt a strange tug on his heart, desperately wanting to ask about the incident he overheard but knowing it wasn't the time nor place and chances were likely Jimmy wouldn't share either way, "I figure we can raid the convenience store and grocery mart, there might be a pharmacy inside, and nonperishables left on the shelves. Fill the truck with as many necessities we can find, then if there's room left, we can check out the liquor and book store for luxuries."

"Good plan," Ben returned. He jerked his head towards the four and wondered, "You think they'll be able to figure out the difference between a necessity and a luxury item, or should we give them lists and break them into search parties?"

Jimmy smirked, "How many months has it been since the apocalypse? I think if they haven't figured it out by now, their doomed."

Ben laughed shortly and nodded.

"Groceries first," Jimmy announced to the group, "You guys head in with Ben, start looting. I'm going to get the truck, pull it in closer."

"Careful," Ben murmured, watching for a few heartbeats as Jimmy slunk back the direction of their vehicles with gun at ready. Then Ben shouldered his own rifle and led the way to the grocery mart.

The doors were locked which, Ben assumed, was why the initial scouts to the area believed it would still have resources available. He used the butt of his rifle to bust the window and knock the broken shards aside, then he ducked in, the other four following tentatively behind.

"Okay, you two…" Ben started, but Roman cut in, booming instruction to his comrades.

"Kelsey, you and me'll take that end. Gee, Doug, you two head over there," Roman said, and the others quickly began the directions indicated.

"Whoa, wait," Ben called, and Roman turned a harsh glare back to him, the other three pausing to watch their exchange interestedly.

"What?" the older boy challenged, a fiery glint in his eye. Ben had to bite back the sharp retort on his tongue, had to struggle to pull in his simmering rage, and had to fight every urge in his body to wring that older boy's neck.

"We need to stay within a ten foot radius of one another. We'll comb the aisles in…" Ben stated, his words teetering with anger.

"This'll be quicker," Roman argued, "They'll take that side, we'll take that side and meet in the middle. You can stay here."

"Faster isn't always the best way. This is protocol. We stay within range of one another that way if the enemy attacks, we can easily regroup, fall into battle formation and retaliate," Ben seethed.

"Except we all know the enemy isn't going to attack, because there's none nearby" Roman sneered, and Ben startled at that admission, his brow shooting up in surprise, "You're not the only one that can hear them coming, you know, you're not as special as you think you are."

"I never said…" Ben gaped.

"You're less than, actually, because we can do everything you can, without the spikes and without the worry that any moment we'll turn back into mindless drones," Roman hissed.

Ben tilted his chin down, let the rage burn through him. Shakily, he bit out, "We always have to follow protocol."

"It's ironic, isn't it, that you should be the one to say that?" Roman replied.

Ben stepped forward without thinking, his hands balling into fists, not bothering to wonder what the other boy was trying to imply. Roman had already confessed to having hearing on par with Ben's, which meant he could also hear just about everything going on around camp, taking that into consideration with his off-handed comment, it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that the asshole had been eavesdropping on Ben's private conversations. Ben didn't even want to think about what Roman had 'overheard' from Jimmy's day-to-day.

Roman readied himself for Ben's advance, puffing himself up and tensing his muscles, his own hands curling into tight little balls but at the sound of a car door slamming shut and the crunch of glass under foot at the entrance, both boys bit back their next verbal and possibly physical jabs, turning as Jimmy entered. Jimmy paused near the door, looking wide-eyed between them all.

"What're you guys doing?" he demanded, confused by the standstill. Ben opened his mouth to explicate that he intended to bash Roman's face in but, once again, the asshole spoke up first.

"Mason here was just explaining protocol to us," he said, "Ten foot range, right? Stay together? 'Course, there aren't any enemy troops in the area and there's no danger of a surprise attack hitting us, not with your razorback keeping watch, right, brat? So I figured, why don't we break up and take the aisles in pairs, meet back here. It'll be quicker and, that way, we can get through more scenario drills and then, maybe, get home sooner. Which is what we all want, right?"

"I guess," Jimmy shrugged, "Sure, okay."

"No, not okay," Ben snapped, wincing when Jimmy flinched, and saying in a gentler tone, "We need to follow protocol. Weaver wants them properly trained."

"Yeah, okay. Sure, protocol. Sorry," Jimmy murmured.

"Except you're not the one calling shots, Mason," Roman interjected, glaring daggers at Ben, then turning to Jimmy a look of intent, "You're the one in charge, brat, so what do you think?"

"I…" Jimmy took a small step back and glanced uncertainly between Ben and Roman. Roman had his intense gaze set on Jimmy and Ben wore a threatening glare that he shot Roman's direction, "I…think we're wasting time arguing about something stupid."

"He's the one arguing," Roman returned easily, with a shrugged gesture towards Ben.

"You're the one being an asshole," Ben bit out.

"You're both giving me a headache," Jimmy muttered, "Fine. Protocol is whatever's safest. Safest, right now, is fastest. We know there's no enemy in the area, at least within a mile radius, therefore, no threat of surprise attack, so everyone take an aisle and start scavenging."

The other three started towards separate ends of the store, but Roman sent an almost triumphant grin Ben's direction before turning as well and Ben remained frozen to the spot, fury burning through him. He barely acknowledged Jimmy wandering up beside him, gently, casually brushing a hand against his arm to gain his attention.

"I know he's an asshole, but you just have to ignore him," Jimmy carefully whispered.

"That asshole has heightened hearing from the harness," Ben exclaimed, not even bothering to keep his voice low, after all, what difference did it make?

"Oh yeah…that…" Jimmy murmured. He didn't sound the least surprised and something about that soured in Ben.

"You knew," Ben surmised, spinning on the other boy, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Uh…why…would I?" Jimmy returned, stumbling back a step and shoving his hands in his pockets, a defensive posture that bothered Ben to no end. Jimmy wrinkled his brow in confusion, "I didn't think it was important."

Ben's expression twisted incredulous. He opened his mouth, no sound came out, and so he closed it again, shaking his head in disbelief: why was it that Jimmy always decided everything going on in his life was not something Ben needed to know? Was it that the information itself wasn't important, or that Ben himself wasn't important enough to share with?

"They never actually told me anything," Jimmy continued softly, almost apologetically, "They just hinted, so I didn't exactly have any concrete evidence. I haven't even told Weaver yet."

Ben glared hard at the ground. Of course, telling Weaver would come first. Weaver's desires always came first. Everyone else's wants, needs, desires always seemed to come first.

"Why is it such a big deal?" Jimmy questioned.

"It's not," Ben muttered, shrugging and starting for the exit, "Come on. We have a perimeter to maintain."

"Right," Jimmy agreed, trudging after.

Ben slipped through the door, barely acknowledging as his hand caught on a shard of glass in passing, feeling it slice effortlessly through the flesh, feeling baubles of blood rise quickly to the fresh opening. He didn't know why it mattered so much to him that Jimmy hadn't told him about Roman and the others having heightened hearing.

Ben grimaced, wiping the quickly pooling blood off on his pant leg, holding it against the fabric, pressed hard into his outer thigh, to stopper the bleeding. Maybe because it felt as though Jimmy were protecting Roman and the others.

Protecting them from Ben.

The blood clotted quickly and Ben straightened, hiking his rifle higher up on his shoulder and marching up along the complex, aware that Jimmy had wandered the opposite direction, though neither would travel too far from the grocery store exit. Ben thought back to that moment in the store, that smug look on Roman's face and how he had desperately wanted to break it into a thousand bloody pieces.

_You're not the hero of this story._

Maybe Jimmy was right, and Roman and the others needed to be protected from him.

_At least, not mankind's._

Maybe everyone did.

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A/N: Alright, so we kind of get a little more of Kelsey in this chapter...her character should prove interesting. Hopefully. Her and Roman have an interesting dynamic. I hope to slowly reveal all of the unharnessed children's (including Rick and, especially, Ben, of course) backgrounds very slowly over the course of this story so that it makes sense the role they get slipped into in the end. Also, Ben is starting to realize that something is happening to him, something dark and sinister might be taking over, something he might not be able to control.

What to look forward to in the new year: Tom's return and reaction to new developments, Roman and Ben in a no-holds-barred fist fight, Jimmy's mysterious illness has interesting side-effects, a character that disappeared in the first episode of season 2 gains a starring role, those two months in Dorchester, someone called the Tinkerer, a mad scientist, the reality of Ben's surreal life, Earth's altering landscape, and a few ultimate acts of love.

Right? Right. Let me know what you think.

So, totally irrelevant to anything, just found it funny. I received a new review for a story I post under a different penname (I have like five pennames on this site...each with their own personality, fandoms, and style of writing...because I'm slightly schitzo), and I haven't updated this other story in a year...so I guess the fans are starting to worry that I died. I may have to finish that story one day. It's just sooooo long and there are five main characters with their own main plots and fifteen peripheral characters with their own subplots, the main overarching plot...and it's one of the stories I've written that I actually put hardcore research into so...sigh. I was pretty proud of one of my reviewers that posted another review...she reread the whole story and came very darn close to figuring out some of the biggest mysteries in the story. Oh well, I'm boring you people.

Reviewers: Ah, SassySavanna190, I'm glad you caught on to Roman and Doug's nonchalance about the war and everything, they'll learn very soon the seriousness of it all. I guess this chapter didn't really end on a cliffhanger...did it? I guess that was cliffhanger-ish...we stay at the compound for a few chapters so...something better happen in those chapters. I guess I'll give you a cliffhanger then, to drive you crazy...a line from a couple chapters down the line "A single, deafening gunshot sounded off at the other end of the store and caused Ben to hesitate, straining his ears for sounds of Jimmy..." There you go. There's your cliffhanger! Thank you for the holiday wishes, also! JDMlvr1, well, I am glad you approved of the interaction...Ben really wants to punch one of those boys, preferably Roman. IcicleLilly, oh hey, I guess it was an ominous ending...lol. Interesting predictions...you'll just have to wait...for two weeks because I'm a cruel, cruel person, read, and see.

Right-o. I wish to you and yours all a very happy holiday season! Hopefully, I will see all your bright, shiny screen names in the New Year! Perk up people, we survived the apocalypse! Next update will be on January 3rd, don't miss it! :) Also, I do recommend checking the fandom on Christmas of sometime after, I think Santa (or the flying Spaghetti monster...always confuse those two) might have a special gift for you guys popping up under my screen name...possibly something fluffy and sweet, and all about Ben and Jimmy!


	25. Chapter 25

A/N: Welcome back everyone! Hope your holidays were fantastic! If you didn't see, I posted a story over the break called Falling Snow...it's really just a fluffy Jimmy/Ben piece...at least, I think it's fluffy. I got some writing done over the hiatus, not nearly as much as I wanted to, damn holiday festivity family time stuff...but I got to chapter 40, and I'm close to the part of the story where Tom comes in and then I reach the 1/3 done marker and this is where I remind you that I said this was going to be a ridiculously long story...

Right. Thank you to the reviewers for being so awesome, and to the silent readers as well, for waiting so patiently.

Thank you to Greg for beta-ing, he had a hectic holidays, and he's been working on his own fanfic. If you haven't checked it out, it's titled "Ice Blue", go read and review for him.

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XXV.

It took a little less than an hour for the four rookies to clear out the grocery store. Jimmy kept an eye on his watch, checking it every five minutes on the minute, even as he mentally ticked off the time in his head, counting the seconds in rounds of three hundred, pacing his steps in rhythm to the numbers rattling through his brain. It gave him something to focus on that wasn't Ben keeping watch at the other end of the shopping center, apparently sulking because Jimmy forgot to mention the possibility that the other unharnessed teens had the same abilities as him.

Roman approached Jimmy when the grocery store was cleaned out, the other three hanging out by the truck.

"What's next, brat?" he greeted.

Jimmy sighed, wordlessly stalking back towards the others. Ben was sauntering their direction as well, though he stopped short a few meters, keeping ample distance.

"Roman, Gia, I want you both to keep watch now, while the rest of us check out the convenience store, then we'll switch it up, Doug and Kelsey will hang back while we look into the liquor store. On watch, you need to keep your gun at the ready. You'll each pick a direction; walk about forty paces from the shop entrance. You'll walk twenty paces from the wall, stop and sweep your eyes across the perimeter from one end to the other. Twenty paces back towards the store stop and sweep the perimeter. Turn round, march out twenty paces, stop, sweep. Repeat. Gun is always at ready," Jimmy rattled off hasty explanation. He gripped the rifle strap slung over his shoulder and looked expectantly at the four staring blank faced back at him, "Any questions?"

"Yeah. This kind of seems obvious but…uh…what do we do if we see anything?" Gia asked.

"Signal your partner, fall back to the store entrance and alert the fighters inside," Jimmy answered, "From there, me and Ben'll handle things."

Kelsey, partially hiding behind Roman, tentatively raised her hand. A small shiver raced Jimmy's spine as he glanced at the seemingly anxious young girl.

"Yeah, what?" he prompted.

"What's the signal?" she whispered question.

"Work that out with your partner," Jimmy replied easily, "Should be something subtle, like a whistle or bird call. Something quiet, common, that won't attract the enemy but that your partner can easily hear and understand. Anyone else?"

The others shrugged, remained silent. Roman had his gaze fixated on the horizon, a bored expression on his face, a strange smirk in the corner of his mouth. Doug examined his rifle barrel, as though it had some great joke written across its metal tip. Gia brushed absently at the fine baby hairs around her face. Kelsey chewed her thumbnail, tearing off a sliver and flicking it to the ground.

"Right. Let's go," Jimmy muttered, leading the way to the convenience store.

At the entrance, Ben busted the door open, Roman and Gia followed Jimmy's instructions on watch, counting off their paces as they broke opposite directions. Jimmy waited for Kelsey, Doug, and Ben to slip into the store before ducking in after them.

The store looked to have been somewhat ransacked, possibly by the previous owner, it was obvious that essentials had been taken, but a lot of other useful though not readily apparent as essential items remained. The store itself wasn't very large, so the four teens each headed down separate aisles, quietly scanning the shelves. Jimmy headed to the back, skimming the pharmaceuticals and hygiene products. He glanced up momentarily at the sound of footfalls nearby, and smiled faintly at Ben, who met his eyes but didn't return the expression.

Jimmy sighed, furrowing his brow and studying a bottle of pills, not really recognizing the name written across it, 'Arnica D6'.

"It's homeopathic…useless crap," Ben mumbled, plucking the bottle from Jimmy's hand and placing it back on the shelf. He motioned to a few of the other bottles, some were multi-vitamins, others were labeled specifically as things like 'B12', or 'Fish Oil', "We should probably take most of these though. Dietary supplements, all the nutrients of a balanced dinner in a handful of pills."

"Yum," Jimmy muttered, "I guess I'll go get a basket or something…"

"Yeah," Ben agreed, waiting at the shelves while Jimmy wandered in search of a vessel for the bottles. He found a cheap, flowery tote in one of the aisles and brought it back, holding it open as Ben dropped bottles inside.

"It's kind of weird," Jimmy confessed and Ben perked an inquisitive brow at him. He lowered his eyes and shrugged, anxious, "Nothing…it's just…the day of the invasion I had stopped at a convenience store kind of like this one. It's weird thinking back to then…knowing now that it was the last time…the last time I would ever be normal inside of a place like this…shopping for soda and candy, browsing the cheap 'Made in China' crap for the hell of it, just killing time and goofing off with my friends until a movie started."

"Yeah, I guess that is weird," Ben agreed, he smirked vaguely, "Know what else is weird?"

Jimmy glanced at Ben, the other boy scanning the bottles thoughtfully before tossing them one at a time into the bag.

"I went to a convenience store the morning of the invasion too. My dad and I had to pick up my asthma medication, a new inhaler…you know…" Ben fidgeted somewhat with a bottle of One A Day's, wrinkling his brow anxiously as he spoke as though discomforted by the memory of his old life and his illness long since healed by the harness, "There was a convenience store next door, so I went to look for the new issue of…uh…some magazine I used to read while my dad waited on my prescription to be filled…"

"That's not so weird. I bet half the 2nd Mass was at a convenience store the morning of the invasion," Jimmy joked.

"Maybe," Ben conceded, grinning suddenly and adding, "And the other half was probably at Starbucks."

Jimmy laughed and Ben smiled at him.

Vitamin shelf cleared, Jimmy handed Ben the flowery tote and wandered down the next aisle, aware that the other boy was trailing a few paces behind him. Much of the shelves were filled with laxatives and bath salts, things of that nature. Jimmy paused to pick up a white bottle with another label he could barely read. He handed it to Ben, who briefly skimmed it and put it back.

It was kind of an odd feeling that settled over Jimmy as he perused the aisles with Ben. Despite it being the post-apocalypse, there was something almost domestic about the scene. His mind wandered back to their conversation in that bed now days since passed, and Ben's melancholy fantasy about a future that could never happen. Jimmy vaguely wondered if this is what it would've been like – sans the 'looting', the two of them strolling around a convenience store shopping together for basic necessities, hygiene products and multivitamins. He imagined they would probably argue over silly things, like which body-wash to buy, or whether their milk should be 'whole' or '1%', not about who forgot to tell who about the other super-powered kids in camp or about dangerous late night alien hunting trips that one didn't think the other capable of handling. No, just mundane arguments that weren't all 'do or die'. It would be like this, a calm and lazy walk through shelves overflowing with chips or hair products. Sometimes, he imagined, Ben would drag him behind a shelf, out of view of other patrons and security cameras, to steal a kiss or to whisper something nauseatingly sweet in his ear if only to bring a blush to his cheeks.

Jimmy frowned, running his fingers across a shelf full of perfume bottles and coated in a thick layer of dust. There was one glaring downfall to that 'fantasy' life that Ben had conjured up: prying eyes. In the post-apocalypse, there weren't other customers wandering the store, scrutinizing the boys' every action, there weren't millions of people hustling along the streets looking for anything, any cause, no matter how irrelevant to themselves, to pour their energy into; instead, there were only the couple hundred or so members of the 2nd Mass, who were themselves too concerned with their own survival to bother with what two young boys got up to in rare periods of reprieve.

In that other life, Ben and Jimmy would constantly be forced to check themselves. They couldn't walk as close as they did, their shoulders lined up and arms brushing comfortably, pleasantly together. They couldn't stop, lean into one another, and whisper conversations, without an entire store of strangers watching them, curious and mal intentioned. The boys could be more careless in their interactions. Jimmy hadn't even realized he'd slipped his hand into Ben's as they walked, twining their fingers as if it were the most natural thing in the world, until Ben casually paused at one of the shelves, tugging Jimmy to a halt. It took him a few seconds to realize why their hands were clasped and the forwardness of his action, and then Jimmy hastily ripped his hand back, flustering and dropping his eyes so that he completely missed the confused, if not slightly hurt look that creased Ben's features.

"Sorry…I…I didn't mean…" Jimmy stammered; absently fidgeting with that impudent hand of his and glancing away, color in his cheeks.

Ben readied a reply, his expression unreadable, but it died on his tongue at the sound of footfalls rounding into the aisle. Doug appeared, paused and looked at the two boys expectantly.

"We're done in here," Doug announced.

"Okay, we'll swap with Rome and Gia and check out the liquor store then we'll check in the bookstore for anything useful," Jimmy said hastily, hurrying towards the store exit, without another word or look Ben's direction.

Outside, Gia and Roman swapped places with Doug and Kelsey. Then Ben led the way into the liquor shop.

"What do we need booze for, anyhow?" Gia complained once inside. Jimmy sighed, feeling certain she might be revving up for a morality lecture and unsure how to derail it, but Roman simply smirked at her.

"Because war is hard and men need to unwind," the older boy proclaimed, sounding like he might only be half-joking. Jimmy smacked a hand over his face and shook his head, not that he had any room to comment, and after all, he got drunk often enough. Gia wrinkled her nose, unimpressed.

"Don't you mean you _little boys_ need something to forget how scared you always are," she spat out.

"Actually, we're mostly looking for hard liquors, anything with a high alcohol content that Dr. Glass can use to sanitize injuries and sedate patients," Ben spoke up and Jimmy had to hide the smile twitching in the corner of his lip, ever the adorable dork with his rational explanations.

"Oh," Gia mouthed, piping, "That makes sense. You know, Mason, you might not be half-dumb," then she jerked her head Roman and Jimmy's direction and grumbled, "Not like these two."

"Um…thank you," Ben mumbled uncertainly.

"I didn't even say anything," Jimmy complained.

Gia sauntered away down one of the aisles at that, every so often picking up bottles and reading their labels along the way, scrunching her nose apprehensively. She obviously didn't know anything about liquor.

"He just doesn't know how to have fun, Gee," Roman called after his departing friend, and then he shot Ben a dark, hard look, and grit out, "Must be an alien thing."

"Roman," Jimmy hissed warning and the older boy smirked at him.

"What's the matter, brat? We all know he's part alien."

"Stop talking to him like that," Ben growled suddenly. He stepped forward to stand in front of Jimmy and leered threateningly out at Roman.

Jimmy stumbled, startled, backwards a step and shot a curious, slightly confused look to Ben. Jimmy could understand if Ben had felt personally insulted by the comments but Roman had said nothing particularly cruel or untoward of Jimmy himself.

"Talking to him like what?" Roman demanded. He smiled at Jimmy, that devilish curl of his lip that sent ominous shivers along Jimmy's spine, and asked, "I'm always nice to you, aren't I, brat?"

Jimmy flushed, "I wouldn't say always."

"Will you just go away asshole," Ben seethed.

"You're not the one in charge," Roman shot back, taking a menacing step forward, "And I don't think _I_ like the way _you_ talk to him."

Sensing that things were about to turn ugly and fast, Jimmy squeezed his way past Ben, positioning himself between the other boys, but immediately regretted the move, feeling suddenly like a small shack caught between two torrential windstorms. Gia had paused in one of the aisles and was watching the exchange curiously from a distance.

"I don't like the way either of you are talking right now, so shut the fuck up, both of you," Jimmy snapped. He darted a meaningful look to Ben and then Roman and hissed, "Both of you turn around right now and walk away."

Neither moved, not that Jimmy was surprised that they weren't about to listen to him. He took a deep breath, decided it more prudent to focus on calming the one boy he knew he should have at least a little influence over.

"Ben, please…" he started.

"No, I'm not going anywhere. He needs to walk away," Ben bit out and Jimmy flinched back from the force of his words. Right, Jimmy thought, maybe he didn't have as much sway over Ben as he thought.

"Okay…fine…Roman…could you please just turn around…" Jimmy stammered.

"I guess. If that's what you want," Roman muttered, taking a small step back, but still eying Ben warily. Jimmy furrowed his brow at the oddity of his statement.

"Yes. It's what I want," he returned sharply, making a slight, awkward shooing motion with his hand, "Go. Look for…" he scrunched his nose at the peculiarity of his next instruction, "…alcohol. Please. Thank you."

Roman shrugged, turning away and catching up to Gia. They fell in line together, glancing over the bottles interestedly and talking in low whispers. Jimmy wheeled his attention round to Ben, the other boy pacing agitatedly down the aisle. Jimmy sighed.

"What the hell is the matter with you?" he softly questioned, "Were you seriously considering exchanging blows on an op? You know, Weaver put you on probation for a reason…"

"Was it him?" Ben demanded haughtily and Jimmy faltered, furrowing his brow, heart thundering in his chest against the multiplicity of intentions in that single question.

"Was…_what_…him?"

Ben motioned the side of Jimmy's face, where the bruising was faded but still evident. Jimmy shoved his hands in his pockets and frowned at the ground.

"I told you to forget about that," Jimmy murmured.

"How'm I supposed to forget about it when it's staring right at me?" Ben demanded, "It was him, wasn't it? What happened exactly? Did he attack you?"

"We had an argument; blows were exchanged," Jimmy mumbled explanation, "Could you relax?"

"Jimmy…" Ben started, haggardly, clearly not planning on relaxing anytime soon.

"Look, it's not the first fight I've ever gotten in. I mean, hell, Ben, you and me have gotten in fights together plenty of times, against others, against _each other_, or have you forgotten how well our second patrol went?" Jimmy said and Ben faltered, "So I got in a fight with him. It's not that big a deal, in fact, it's a good thing. I won and now he knows I'm not a pushover. You know, I _can_ handle myself."

"That's not what I…"

"I know, I know, you think _very_ highly of my capabilities," Jimmy grumbled sarcastically, moving past to wander down the aisle in search of anything worth looting.

"Stop that," Ben complained, falling in step beside him, "I know that you can handle yourself. But I don't want you to ever have to…that's all."

"You can't protect me, Ben, and you don't have to, and it's not your job. Shit, I don't need a bodyguard…or a…hero…or whatever," Jimmy said quietly.

Ben stopped short, and Jimmy wandered away a few steps, looking curiously back. Ben wore an expression akin to someone who'd been suddenly and smartly slapped across the cheek.

"I wasn't trying to be…" Ben stammered, when he'd broken from the stun of Jimmy's proclamation.

There was a mysterious kind of pain in Ben's features that Jimmy wasn't entirely certain how to read, so he let it go, furrowing his brow and picking a bottle from the shelf; it was made of frosted glass, the liquid inside perfectly clear, its label was black, silver writing, with crimson red trim.

"Russian Standard," he recognized, turning it over in his hands and quietly remarking, "I had a friend who was obsessed with this stuff," he smiled distantly, a memory rushing into his mind as if he had only lived it yesterday, "He got a bottle of it once, snuck it from his old man's stash. Me and him and one of our other friends snuck out late night and met under the university bridge. We played a drinking game with a deck of cards and got shit-faced. We talked all night, you know, about the kind of stuff that seems important when you're drunk but you can't remember the next morning?"

Jimmy looked expectant at Ben but Ben only shrugged confused. Jimmy winced, fidgeting with the bottle. Of course Ben wouldn't know, the first and only time he'd been drunk in his life had been with Jimmy in the woods behind a cabin and though that night had been poignant for Jimmy – laying back on the damp forest floor, a calloused hand across his eyes, and warm, bittersweet lips molding against his own – it may not have been for Ben.

For Ben, the morning after and his torrential fight with Hal may have been far more memorable, either that or the punch in the gut Jimmy dealt him shortly after, by turning away and pretending their first kiss never happened. It was a gut-wrenching reminder of how different the two boys' lives from before had been from one another.

Jimmy cleared his throat and twisted the bottle anxiously around in his hands.

"Yeah…well…it was the first time I saw the sunrise…so…" Jimmy mumbled, then smirked vaguely, flashed the bottle at Ben, and asked, "Want to try some tonight?"

Ben wrinkled his nose, hesitant. He took the bottle from Jimmy's hands and skimmed its label.

"Vodka?" he murmured, and then peered up at Jimmy, "How do we…do we just drink it or mix it with something or…?"

"We should probably get you a chaser at the very least," Jimmy said wisely, grimacing as he recalled his first experience with that burning liquid and then Ben's lack of experience with hard liquor altogether. Not to mention, Ben was the world's lightest light-weight. One shot of Russian Standard would probably knock him flat on his ass. Jimmy sighed resignedly. He plucked the bottle out of Ben's hands and carefully set it back on the shelf, "On second thought…maybe we ought to grab wine coolers instead."

"What? Why?" Ben wondered innocently, "I want to try it."

"It's not a good idea," Jimmy returned, shoving his hands in his pockets and wandering away. Ben lingered a moment, eyeing the bottle of Vodka enviously before falling in step behind Jimmy, "We got to build up your tolerance a _lot_ more. Keep you on girly drinks for a while, the kind of shit with more sugar than alcohol in it…maybe a beer every now and then until you can finish a couple without getting faded."

"Oh," Ben mumbled. He was quiet for few seconds as they moved through the aisle, then he made a small noise in the back of his throat and said, "So…tonight is a…yes?"

Jimmy smiled distantly, shrugged.

"I guess," he whispered. Ben grinned, that eager puppy dog look in his eyes, and somehow the entire store felt brighter.

"Great. I have the perfect plans for tonight then," he exclaimed, "There's this place I wanted to check out…"

"We're not just gonna go to the bus?" Jimmy wondered, a perked brow, and Ben's features fell a little.

"You just want to go to the bus?" he returned, sounding disappointed.

Jimmy startled, he sort of figured they would be spending that night the way they'd spent most of their recent nights, inside of one another's pants. After all, lately it had seemed since that first time when Jimmy opened a door to the unknown and still vastly unexplored world of 'sex' that they had crossed a threshold from which there was no coming back. He'd started to feel as though that was the basis of their interactions now, a prelude to carnal desire. The prospect of going somewhere – anywhere – alone with Ben that didn't assume sex from the get-go had become almost foreign in a way.

"I…well I thought…" Jimmy mumbled, then furrowed his brow and affirmed, "No, I don't. I kind of thought that you…wanted…but…"

Ben smirked, looking far too pleased with himself, "And you always call me a pervert…"

"Well that's because you are," Jimmy murmured, mock-indignant. He pushed onward down the aisle and Ben followed after.

They perused a few more shelves of various alcohols, Ben picking up a few with interest and Jimmy responding by either wrinkling his nose in disgust or shaking his head warily at Ben, always putting them back.

"There are probably some crates behind the register we can use to gather up some of the harder liquors," Ben mused, and Jimmy made a small noise of agreement. Ben volunteered to find something to start sticking the bottles into and Jimmy continued to wander. He thought Ben had returned rather quickly when he heard the pattering of footsteps approach, only to spin round and find Roman standing there. His heart cinched, heat rushed to his head. Gia was still wandering the aisles somewhere across the store and Ben was poking around the registers in search of crates.

Up close and with a moment of peace not have to play mediator between Ben and the other four, Jimmy could now get a pretty clear view of the damage left behind on the older boy by their scuffle. The left side of Roman's face had swollen considerably, there was discoloration around his eye, and his lip was split, possibly because he bit into it when Jimmy's knee connected. Altogether, he looked a sorry mess and Jimmy couldn't say he felt all that guilty over it.

"If you're here to complain about Ben, just turn around and walk away now," Jimmy greeted harshly.

Roman tipped his head to the side and smirked humorously at the ground, "About our fight…"

"Now's not really the time for revenge, if that's what you want," Jimmy hastily whispered, heartbeat quickening and eyes darting to where Ben was still rummaging behind a register counter.

"I'm not sure it would be wise to fight you again," Roman laughed, and then a dark look passed over his features, "Besides, something tells me your razorback wouldn't sit and stay like a good boy and let us duke it out," Jimmy flinched, bristling at the remarks, but Roman ignored the obviously irritated reaction, continuing, "You know, I woke up on the floor of that classroom yesterday with a splitting headache and no clue what happened. And you know, brat, it's killing me, I just got to know, how'd you manage to knock me out?"

Jimmy blinked once, taken aback, and shook his head at the ground. It wasn't what he expected after their squabble, for Roman to demand a play-by-play, but then, he hadn't expected Roman to praise his teaching skills to Weaver either, or for their lessons to continue, so he was starting to think he ought to just stop expecting things. Jimmy took up walking down the aisles again, scanning the freezer section and the various beers lined up behind the window doors: Shocktop had a mild flavor that he thought Ben might like, but Budweiser had less alcohol, which meant a less drunk Ben.

"You ignoring me, brat?" Roman prodded. Jimmy shrugged, considered the older boy a moment.

"No. I'm just choosing not to answer. It was a stupid question," he decided.

"What?" Roman seethed, "And exactly what was so stupid about it?"

"You just assume that you should've beaten me," Jimmy explained nonchalant, "Why is that? Because of what the Skitters did to you?"

Roman ruffled at the intonation, a sudden flash of anger cross his eyes. For a moment he looked ready to advance with violent action, but he held his ground, stewing in his own frustrated juices.

"Lately," Roman grit out between tightly clenched teeth, "When I hit someone, and I mean just once, they tend to stay down. I hit you three times."

"Yeah, I remember," Jimmy murmured, absently running his thumb across the faded bruising on the side of his own face. It still smarted a little, Roman wasn't joking about packing a hefty punch.

"But you didn't stay down," Roman pointed out the obvious, "Is your face made of steel, or something? How did you manage that? And how did you beat me?"

"Why do you care so much?" Jimmy returned.

Roman dropped his gaze, taking a purposeful step towards Jimmy. Subconsciously, Jimmy stepped back, eyeing the older boy warily.

"I never really liked you; you know," Roman confessed, "I figured you were the type to get in the way."

Jimmy remained silent. It was a fair assumption, most of the time he was the type to get in the way.

"I had heard you were a tough kid. People talk a lot, you know, nothing better to do," Roman continued, his tone harsh and resolute, "I thought they just said those things because you carried a rifle around, tagged along with all the hardcore fighters in camp, just some snot-nosed brat pretending to be a soldier. Another casualty of stupidity waiting to happen. I was convinced that the warehouse mission, that it was a fluke. You probably weren't even in that warehouse, probably weren't the one to bring it down, they just said it so we'd all be gung-ho about going back for you, because you're Weaver's pet and who'd play fetch with him if you were gone?"

Jimmy scowled, said nothing. He darted another Ben's direction and his frown deepened. Ben hadn't found any crates, but it seemed he'd finally noticed Roman and Jimmy were having a conversation, and from across the store, Jimmy could feel the heat of Ben's rage. This wasn't going to end well if he couldn't cull Roman's curiosity quickly.

"Then you walk through the door in that classroom and, of course, I think Weaver's been jerking us around for so long and now what? He's playing a whole new game with us? Sending us you because you were the only person in camp that would come anywhere near us, right? Because you play nice with that one," Roman gestured Ben with a quick jerk of his head, "And since we're all the same according to all of you, you'd probably play nice with us too, and we'd be just so grateful of it, we'd never realize you were just some useless brat."

Jimmy winced, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Ben was stalking back towards them, his expression promised nothing short of violence.

"Except now you lay me out. _Me._ I got at least forty pounds of muscle on your scrawny ass, and a punch that'll knock out a grown man in one hit. And now I got to wonder, now I just got to know, is it a joke? Or is Weaver for real?" Roman pressed.

"You really want to know how I won that fight?" Jimmy suddenly questioned.

"That's what I said, isn't it?"

Jimmy rolled his eyes up to meet Roman's, an icy glare that froze the older boy to the spot.

"You're stupid is how. You rely too much on your strength. You throw all of your body into your punches and just hope one lands and takes out your opponent right off so you don't have to actually fight," Jimmy rattled off quickly, "You're slow and you're slow to recover, slow to counter."

Roman glared at him, stunned by the candidness of Jimmy's hastened explanation, "That it?"

"No. There's one other thing."

"And what's that?" Roman scoffed, "You're better than me?"

Jimmy strode forward towards the advancing Ben. He could feel those hawk-eyes on him, watching his retreat and causing the hairs on the back of his neck and along his arms to prickle

"No," Jimmy hissed over his shoulder as though it should be the most obvious thing, "I got lucky."

When Jimmy reached Ben, he slunk his arm round Ben's waist, pushing and pulling the vehement boy insistently back towards the registers.

"Come on, Ben, forget it. It was nothing. He just had a question," Jimmy gently coaxed, "Let's go find crates."

"What kind of a question?" Ben demanded.

"The stupid kind," Jimmy answered coolly, "Come on; let's hurry up here so we can go to the bookstore. Find you some new big book to read."

"I'd rather find a new big book to bash over his head," Ben muttered, letting Jimmy drag him by the shirt as his eyes remained pinned on Roman, drilling neat little pinholes into the older boy's face.

Jimmy sighed, "He's an asshole, I get that, but don't you think the level of hate you got for the guy might be a little unnecessary?"

"He hit you," Ben returned plaintively, agitated. He gave up his glaring contest with Roman, turning his attention forward and falling in line beside Jimmy as they headed back towards the registers.

"No, you hated him long before you knew he was the one I got in a fight with," Jimmy retorted.

"Well…I just…I don't like…the look of him," Ben stammered. Jimmy frowned, unable to help noticing Ben's reasoning was exactly the same as Roman's reasoning for hating Ben.

"You do know that appearances aren't everything," Jimmy said evenly, perking a brow, "You can't tell me a bookworm like you has never heard the saying 'don't judge a book by its cover'."

"I don't like the way he looks at you," Ben seethed.

Jimmy flustered, his heart suddenly jackhammering in his chest at the implications in that comment, "What…what are you…what way…? He doesn't..."

"And maybe I really don't like the way you're being right now," Ben added, his tone tinged with pain.

"What do you mean by that?" Jimmy demanded, haughtily, "How exactly am I being?"

"You're defending him," Ben bit out, then clicked his tongue disgustedly and muttered, "Don't know why I'm surprised…"

"Because I always take everyone else's side?" Jimmy grumbled sardonic, scanning under each of the register counters as he swiftly moved past them in search of some boxes or crates or anything they could use to hold multiple bottles, "I'm not defending him, Ben, I'm just…"

"Really? Not defending him," Ben scoffed, "What did you just say not even two fucking seconds ago, 'don't judge a book by its cover'? And that's not defending him? Why do I even need to come up with reasons for not liking him? I don't like him, but you seem to so much, why don't you go hang out with him when we get back to camp and I'll stick with my original plans."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Jimmy cried, a sudden sharp pain in his chest, "I don't like the guy. I can barely stand being around him."

"Yeah, I see that," Ben drawled sarcastically.

Jimmy paused, staring at Ben in stun. His heart thumped a few times, his brow perked. He opened his mouth, closed it, and tilted his head to one side as if trying to figure out what exactly he was looking at. Ben folded his arms over his chest, glared expectant at Jimmy.

"Are you…" Jimmy started, faltered a moment, furrowed his brow and tried again, "Are you jealous right now?"

Ben's eyes fell slightly, a sudden sheepish expression crossing his features. Jimmy's brow darted up in surprise. He took a small step forward, a slow smile struggling against the frustrated frown on his lip.

"_That's_ what this is about? You think that…he…? And that I…?" Jimmy fumbled for words, his head spinning as new interpretations of Ben's recent behavior started coming to light, "Shit, Ben, you have got to be kidding me."

Ben scowled, but said nothing.

"This has got to be the stupidest…"

"Oh, great. So now I'm stupid," Ben grumbled under his breath.

"Not what I said," Jimmy muttered, "You're just…you're wasting your energy on something that is completely…"

"What? Impossible?" Ben challenged, and then bit out with a strange quiver in his voice, "You know, you haven't even made an attempt to deny it yet."

"What's there to deny? The guy makes my skin crawl," Jimmy spat out, "And he likes me about as much he likes you."

"Really? I thought he was always nice to you," Ben jeered.

"He's not exactly my type," Jimmy returned.

"Really," Ben scoffed, "And what _exactly_ is your type?"

Jimmy shook his head, continued searching for crates. He couldn't understand, let alone name, the emotion swarming inside of him at that moment, "What the hell do you think of me, Ben? That half-aliens turn me on or something? Seriously, you got me, asshole, you figured it out. I'm all about the super charged Skitter freaks. That's what I go for. You know, thank God this alien invasion thing happened, otherwise …"

"Shut up," Ben groused.

"You ever think that maybe I'm just trying to keep you from getting in a fight with him because I don't want to have to go back to camp and explain to Weaver why you beat up one of the rookies on a practice op?" Jimmy snapped.

"Please, Jimmy, like you would really get shit for something I did," Ben griped.

"Yes, I would, because Weaver made me lead on this assignment, Ben, which means I'm responsible for everyone out here and their actions and that includes you. And…you know, fuck, did you ever stop for a minute to think that maybe that was important to me," Jimmy continued, furiously, "My first assignment calling point. You _know_ how hard it was for me to gain the respect for this. Why are you trying to fuck it up for me?"

"I'm not trying…"

"And the whole responsibility of training those four in the first place, do you have any idea how big a deal that was for me? Weaver gave me this huge assignment, he could've – he _should've_ – given it to a fighter with more experience, someone who was older, more capable, better than me, but he gave it to me. And maybe it's mostly because of you that he chose me, thinking they'd be more willing to learn from someone whose best friend is 'one of them', but maybe I still wanted to prove that I was the right choice regardless," Jimmy went on, he lowered his voice and whispered, "Maybe I needed to prove it…to Weaver…to myself…"

"How the hell was I supposed to know that's how you felt? You never told me," Ben quietly pointed out, glaring at the ground.

"I don't know…I guess I kind of thought you knew me better than that," Jimmy murmured, "Instead, you think I…what? Have a crush on that asshole? Hell, Ben, the only reason I'm putting up with him in the first place is for you."

Ben darted his eyes up to meet Jimmy's, his brow drawn together, "For me? How exactly is training them something for me?"

"I don't know. It just is," Jimmy muttered, taking a step back and, dropping his gaze to the floor, he caught sight of pale particle wood under the nearest counter and dispassionately noted, "Found some crates."

Ben sighed, shaking his head, but he didn't push the subject farther. He moved forward to help Jimmy pull out the crates, and silently they retreated towards the others to start loading up on alcohol.

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A/N: Right, got to be quick...running late. I didn't want to get out of bed this morning, and I have to go back to work. T_T

More of the shopping trip. I didn't much like the convo between Jimmy and Rome, mainly because I cut and pasted it from the original write-up I did of this story that was following a different plotline, so the context was different when I originally wrote it, but I needed it in this story...oh well. That and, look, look, Ben and Jimmy talked about stuff! Sort of. Yes, they're fighting.

Reviewers: WhisperMaw, always good to hear from you! Wow, that is scary, having a kid taken custody for threats and the cops staked out. What is the world coming to? Yeah...I'm well aware that Jimmy's lost a bit of his edge - and I've been waiting for you to say something, most of it is because of Ben and his uncertainties there, it's more difficult to be devil-may-care when you got something to lose, but I promise, we'll see him back with a vengeance eventually...Sassysavanna190, lol, hahahahaha...yes, yes, I am a terrible person doing that to you. And it isn't for a few more chapters, so now the suspense has to kill you for several more weeks. I love your reactions, hope to hear from you this chapter! JDMlvr1, I make no promises. Roman is a prick, and Ben really does want to protect Jimmy, and Jimmy really didn't think of mentioning the superpowers. Typhoonboom08, I'm glad you dropped in...hm...we already talked about it, and I'm glad you found my perspective on it agreeable. Thrilled you're still loving it, and they will stop fighting eventually, but don't wish them too happy just yet, cause when that happens, you know I have to make them miserable again. IcicleLilly, I know, right, poor Ben. Not that he learns to watch his mouth after he finds out about their hearing...yeah, Jimmy'll get there...eventually...one day. I'm looking forward to Tom's return too...who said anyone was going to tell Tom about Ben/Jimmy? Cookie97, wow, you may be the only one who liked Kelsey. She will definitely be talking more in coming chapters. Her character is not who Jimmy first thought she was. I think Ben will be glad of the support. He is fighting himself, I'm glad you spotted that.

Thank you guys for all your wonderful insights! I'm looking forward to hearing from you all in the New Year!

See you guys...probably Sunday? My goal is to finish writing this story by the end of this month...let's see if it happens. I'm laughing on the outside, crying relentlessly on the inside.


	26. Chapter 26

A/N: Sorry this is late! I hope no one was too concerned about the update delay...I woke up this morning and my keyboard was kaput...so I had to make an emergency run to the electronics store, ended up buying a $140 gaming keyboard (I may have made a mention that I'm not a nerd...total lie. I'm a huge techie nerd, I love my PC, built it myself...and now I got a hot keyboard to go with it...) anyhow, enough bragging. On with the story!

Thank you to the reviewers. You guys are awesome as ever.

And thank you, as always, to Greg for beta-ing.

Read.

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XXVI.

They filled two of the crates with bottles of hard liquor, there wasn't too much room left in the truck after their grocery run, and then decided to run a few scenario drills in the grocery store – it was a wide space with plenty of obstacles, making for a good practice area. Jimmy devised different plots, demonstrating formations and hand signals and talking the four teens through tactics for handling various situations. Meanwhile, Ben kept watch, splitting his attentions between their surroundings, and Jimmy's lessons.

For the most part, the drills went smoothly, and Jimmy had to admit, the four teens made a good team. They moved with an almost eerie synchronicity. Roman and Douglas thankfully kept the obnoxious level to a minimum, and Gia even let slide a 'fuck' on Jimmy's part. The only sore spot was Kelsey, she rarely did as told, and the others were constantly glancing back to her at Jimmy's every command, as though more concerned for her well-being than their own. After a couple hours, Jimmy chose to call it a day. The bookstore would be their last stop and then they would head back to camp.

"Bookstore?" Roman complained, "Why do we need books?"

"Because knowledge is an invaluable resource," Ben said, his voice sounded like a low growl.

"You can wait outside, keep watch," Jimmy instructed, following Ben into the store. Douglas was the only one of the unharnessed teens to join them, shrugging at his friends as he ducked into the store as well.

Inside, there were rows and rows of shelves, lined with books. The whole place felt like it was coated in a thick layer of dust and it smelled of mildew. Jimmy sneezed, and made a face at Ben. Douglas made a beeline for the distant shelves, scanning each aisle he passed as though searching for something in particular.

"I feel like I'm back in school at the fucking library," Jimmy complained.

"You could've waited outside, too," Ben pointed out, wandering towards one of the shelves.

Jimmy frowned, watching the other boy a moment. Built like an athlete, dressed in rugged attire, a rifle slung casually over his shoulder and knife hooked to his thigh, Ben didn't exactly fit the image of a used bookstore patron, yet somehow, standing amongst those shelves, scanning the book titles, he seemed more in his element than he ever did gracefully fighting on the battlefield. There was a strange peace about Ben as he pulled out various books and flipped interestedly through their yellowing pages. Jimmy could only stand and stare, gaping at the contrastive beauty of the hardened soldier juxtaposed against the tranquility of towering book stacks: as if Ben were the very incarnation of strength and wisdom melded together into one incredibly attractive package.

At least, he stood and stared until Ben perked a brow at him and remarked, "I think I'm starting to understand why you hate the staring."

"Right," Jimmy flustered, excusing himself in a low fumbling mumble, "I'm going to go see if they have books with…pictures…and small words…or, you know, preferably none at all."

Ben snorted softly, smirking bemused at Jimmy's retreating form before returning to scanning titles.

Jimmy wandered through the aisles, not actually interested in the books. He passed Douglas at one point, the other boy seemed to have found what he was looking for and was browsing through it while leaning against a shelf. Some of the shelves had little placards, labeling the subject of the books that lined them, and Jimmy took to reading those instead, trailing his finger across each one he passed: American History, World History, Literature, Poetry, Science Fiction and Fantasy, Philosophy, Eastern Philosophy, Religion, Occult, Erotica, Self-Help, Psyc…

Jimmy paused, scrunched his nose, meandered back a few rows and reread the placard: Erotica. His heart instantly kicked into high gear. He shoved his hands in his pockets, glanced around. Ben's earlier comment, '_and you always call me the pervert_…', rang accusatorially in his ears, and he flushed, assuring himself he was just interested in knowing what kind of ridiculous books fell under a subject like 'erotica', just for a good laugh, as he made an effort to skim the titles without actually looking as though he were skimming the titles. His eyes paused on one book in particular, heat rushing to his chest and head.

Okay, fine, what did it matter if he was sort of, maybe, slightly interested in what those books might say. He was an average teenage boy, with raging hormones and healthy sexual needs, after all, and, yes, okay, he had no fucking clue how to go about satiating those needs.

Or Ben's needs.

Jimmy reached forward, hesitated. Besides fumbling around naked in the dark hoping to grab onto the right something and move it in a way that felt good, or asking the camp pediatrician for advice, what other options were there? He darted a quick look around as though expecting some nosy sales-clerk to round the corner, sighed haggardly and quickly snatched the book off the shelf. It was a slim red paperback; the cover illustrated two older men with absurdly shiny six-pack abs and huge biceps tangled in an intimate embrace. He made a face at the picture, wondering '_seriously, who the fuck had muscles like that'_ as he thought disparagingly about his own scrawny frame – he was still growing, goddammit – and then, trying to look inconspicuous – forgetting, of course, how ridiculous it was to try being inconspicuous in an abandoned bookstore during the apocalypse, he flipped nervously through the pages.

Oh good, there were pictures, Jimmy acerbically noted, because he definitely needed a diagram of…_filatio_?

"What the hell is…?" Jimmy whispered, wrinkling his nose. He gave up trying to make heads or tails of the terrible sketch of two men-like figures doing…something…to one another and opted instead to read the unfortunately descriptive passage. Instantly, he thought of Ben and him and blood flowed to parts of his body he really didn't need it flowing to at that exact moment, and he hastily flipped from the page, wondering in quiet aggravation, _why the fancy word…they couldn't just call it a blowjob and, holy fucking shit, who knew there were so many different ways to…well…suck_, and then landed on a passage about lubricant usage and his jaw unhinged. He squeezed his eyes closed, trying to shove those new images back out of his mind, and nearly dropped on the spot at the sound of approaching footfalls. He slammed the book clumsily back, turned to face the opposite shelf and stare at it as if he were actually very interested in…what to expect when you're expecting? He stumbled away a couple feet, shoved his hands in his pockets and warily eyed the boy that rounded the corner, his heart pounding erratic in his chest, his face undoubtedly a deep shade of red.

Ben perked a brow curiously at Jimmy, though made no comment, moved into the aisle and scanned the 'Erotica' shelf for half-a-second. Instantly his hand went for the same book Jimmy had only just been looking through.

"Ben," Jimmy hissed in surprise and slight reproach. Ben paused, glanced at him wide-eyed.

"What?" he whispered innocently, and then he shrugged and half-smiled in a sheepish sort of way, looking to the shelf with an expression that begged rational diatribe. Jimmy sighed. He turned his face away in silent concession. Ben plucked the book up and Jimmy listened for a few seconds to the slow rustle of paper as Ben skimmed those explicitly detailed pages.

"Did you still want to hang out when we got back to camp?" Jimmy wondered quietly.

Ben didn't answer, and the pang of his silent rejection spread through Jimmy's chest. He rolled his gaze back towards the other boy. Ben was staring at the open book in his hands, but his eyes were unfocused, his brow wrinkled in thought, his mouth forming a taut, disconcerted frown.

"Never mind," Jimmy murmured, hating the quiver of his voice. He wrapped his arms around himself and started away.

"I always wanted to make out in a bookstore," Ben commented and Jimmy paused, glancing confused back to the other boy. Ben had closed the book but he was looking at the other titles lining the shelves now, as though completely disinterested in his own conversation starter.

"What?" Jimmy demanded, taken about at the randomness of Ben's confession.

"I don't know. I guess it's a nerd thing," Ben said, he turned somewhat, leaning his shoulder casually against the shelf and looking up at Jimmy almost shyly as he explained, "You spend hours at a time, several days out of the week in a bookstore, or a library…school library was definitely high on my list…and I don't know…you start to think about whoever you're crush is at that moment, and then, of course, you start to fantasize about them walking in and seeing you and, I don't know, losing their mind for a moment and actually deciding to talk with you…or, hell, maybe you imagine yourself being brave for once and call out to them. The conversation turns to flirting and then the flirting turns into…" he trailed off, lowered his eyes, shrugged again and repeated, "I always wanted to make out in a bookstore."

Jimmy considered Ben's confession a moment, the pain subsiding, replaced with a soft, fluttery feeling in his chest. He put his hands in his pockets, meandered back slowly, and carefully leaned back against the shelf beside Ben, staring distantly at the books across from them, as color tinted his cheeks.

"Well…we are in a bookstore," Jimmy noted.

"We are," Ben confirmed.

"And you did call out to me…just now," Jimmy mumbled.

"Being brave for once," Ben acknowledged, smiling slightly.

"For once," Jimmy teased, smirking at Ben, and then flustering, determined, "And I'm pretty sure we're flirting right now."

"A little, yeah," Ben agreed.

"You do realize we're on an op," Jimmy pointed out, even as his hand reached out to rest on Ben's hip, furling in the shirt fabric there.

"Practice op," Ben corrected, straightening and repositioning slightly in front of Jimmy, "No enemy for miles around. Remember?"

"Yeah, but it would set a really bad example for our trainees," Jimmy persisted vaguely, even as he leaned forward and slipped his eyes closed as Ben's mouth caught his own. He sank back against the bookshelf, Ben's body pressed firm against his own, their lips parting in a slow, pleasant motion. Jimmy's tongue dove in, met and played with Ben's momentarily. Ben gripped the shelf with one hand, balancing his weight, as he held Jimmy against the wall of books, his other hand wrapped around the back of Jimmy's neck, fingers curled in his hair. Jimmy wrapped his arms around Ben's lower waist, attempted drawing the other boy closer, as if there were a 'closer' to get. They held one another like that for countless seconds, mouths working together in a sumptuous dance.

Ben pulled back a bit, Jimmy moving forward with him at first, reluctant to lose their connection, and then Ben whispered, breath hot on Jimmy's mouth, "Then I guess we'll have to wait until we get back to camp."

"Okay," Jimmy agreed, relief swarming through him. He pressed another kiss to Ben's mouth, relaxing his grip round Ben's waist and whispering, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Ben replied quietly, placing a few delicate kisses along Jimmy's jawline and murmuring, "I'm sorry too." He smirked, remarked humorously, "Next time I think to ask that we not be angry at each other on an op, I might just ask the aliens to go home instead; something tells me that it's more likely to happen."

"I'm not good at this," Jimmy admitted, burying his face in the crook of Ben's neck a moment, if only to breathe in the other boy's scent and reassure himself that he hadn't yet managed to push Ben too far and lose him altogether. He nibbled the skin a bit, absently massaging with his mouth and tongue.

"Feels pretty good to me," Ben distantly murmured, his voice low and husky.

"That's not what I meant, perv," Jimmy muttered, pulling back to glare meaningfully up at Ben.

"You're trying," Ben noted, then he sighed and confessed, "And it's not like I didn't know you weren't good at this and what I was getting myself into from the start."

Jimmy shook his head, dropping his eyes to stare frustrated at Ben's shirt front.

"Also…I guess I was…a little…kind of…jealous," Ben mumbled confession. He sighed and went on to say, "He does look at you…in a way…as if he wants something…and I don't like it, and then you react…and I can see the way you react, even if you can't..."

"I don't get what you mean. He bothers me, yeah, but not in _that_ way," Jimmy returned.

"You sure?" Ben pressed, Jimmy met his eyes a moment, then Ben pulled away, paced a few steps, turned back and sighed, frustrated, "On the way up, I heard…and it's been bothering me…but he…and, look, just, don't get mad or anything, I just want to know…why was he…holding you?"

Jimmy blinked, "What?"

"When we were setting the perimeter up, I overheard…there was some commotion and then…and then you told him to let go and…"

"Oh," Jimmy frowned, rolling his eyes and muttering, "That. That was nothing…" He winced and mumbled explanation, "I guess I kind of…sort of…blacked out for like a second and he grabbed me before I kissed pavement. He thinks I just tripped and that I'm a graceless clout, so that's going to be fun for the next few days, but that's all it was, no big deal."

Suddenly, Ben was gaping at Jimmy as though he'd grown a few more appendages.

"You _blacked out_," Ben repeated, incredulous, moving back to cup Jimmy's cheek in his palm, "And you didn't think you should mention that at some point? I mean, shit, this may just be a practice op, but we're still away from camp, and the enemy is still out there."

"It's not a big deal. I don't sleep much, you know that, I didn't really sleep last night, and I haven't really eaten much today. It happens," Jimmy insisted.

"It _happens_," Ben, again, repeated. He was starting to sound like a dubious parrot, "How _often_ does it happen?"

Jimmy shrugged, lowering his eyes to the ground and absently nibbling his inner cheek.

"Jimmy," Ben whispered, his tone overwhelmed with concern.

"Not often," Jimmy hastily lied, "It doesn't happen often. I was just…nervous…today…because of our fight…last night…and the one before the op."

Ben raised a brow, still skeptical, "Nervous. Right. Or maybe you need to start taking better care of yourself."

"You know, you're starting to sound like Dr. Glass," Jimmy complained, then snorted softly and jestingly added, "Or Hal."

"Low blow, jerk," Ben returned.

"No, actually, as I think about it, you do, you sound just like Hal right now," Jimmy pressed on, smirking coyly to let Ben know he was only joking, "You might want to be careful with that, you know, keep it up and you might turn into your brother."

"Will you shut up," Ben growled, dragging Jimmy into another kiss.

Jimmy smiled against Ben's mouth, then pulled back, touched his forehead to Ben's and mumbled, "Don't worry about Roman, okay? I don't know what he could possibly want from me, or how he looks at me, but I do know that he's…he's not you."

"And being me is a good thing?" Ben prompted.

"A very good thing," Jimmy confirmed, leaning into another kiss, which Ben settled into, fitting himself snug against Jimmy once more but at the slap of footsteps rushing their way, they broke hastily apart, attempting to look innocent and not quite so flushed when Douglas crashed round the corner, gasping for breath and darting a dark look between the boys.

"If you two are done copping a feel…"

"What? What the fuck are…we weren't…" Jimmy began to stammer protest, cheeks blistering with heat. Ben's mouth quirked comically, his eyes widening ever so slightly.

"Oh, I'm sorry, was it supposed to be a secret? Because you guys aren't actually as discreet as you think you are," Douglas bit out, "You do realize that half the camp knows what's going on with you two; the other half is either in denial or just too stupid to connect the dots."

"I really don't know what you're…" Jimmy attempted again, a lump forming in his throat at the prospect of half-the-fucking-camp knowing he and Ben were making out behind closed doors. For crying out loud, he talked to these people, interacted with them, believing they were completely in the dark, now how was he supposed to look them in the eye knowing they were probably staring at him wondering how long ago he'd last been with Ben and what types of things they'd done to each other and thinking who-the-hell knew what about it?

"Two young teenage boys sneak off together, _alone_, at every opportunity when there are plenty of hot babes at camp drooling over them that they could be sneaking off with alone? If you can't figure that one out you're an idiot, a prude, or both. Seriously, I've been accused of prudery on occasion but please don't insult my intelligence," Douglas insisted.

"Not _that_ many people know," Ben murmured in an attempt at being reassuring. It wasn't reassuring.

"Well exactly how many people do know and why didn't you fucking mention to me sooner that there are more people who know?" Jimmy demanded.

Ben looked at Douglas in exasperation.

"Did you come here for something or…?"

"Yeah. I did actually. Remember how we were on this really dangerous mission to loot a shopping complex and we had to be really quick and efficient about it because the enemy could appear at any moment and attack? Well, this is any moment and the enemy has appeared…stay calm though, folks, you didn't miss everything, because luckily, we're still waiting on the attack part," Douglas said in a mock-cheery voice.

Jimmy and Ben exchanged a look.

"Shit," Jimmy griped and Ben growled under his breath.

They shouldered their rifles and followed Douglas to the front of the bookstore. Roman, Gia, and Kelsey, it seemed, had wisely fallen back to the inside of the store. Kelsey was ducked behind the front row of shelves, Roman standing at its end beside her, and Gia peeked curiously out the window.

"Get away from there," Ben hissed instruction to Gia. She glanced back at him once, and then scurried away from the window, joining Kelsey behind the book shelf. Douglas moved next to Roman, the older boy watched Ben and Jimmy approach with a strangely dark look.

Jimmy knelt behind the front counter, where the register was located. Propped over its top, it gave him a clear view of the store front. He held his rifle at ready. Ben slunk stealthily up to the window, peering out. He studied the horizon a moment, though nothing was in sight, and strained his ears for indication of the advancing enemy. It didn't take him long to hear what had the other four excited, and he furrowed his brow and looked back at Jimmy.

'Not Skitters,' Ben mouthed.

Jimmy wrinkled his brow in confusion and returned, 'Then what?'

Ben crawled back to the counter, both boys sliding behind it to speak in low voices. The other four watched them anxiously from their hiding spots behind the bookshelves, they all had their own rifles at ready, but it was obvious in the awkward way they held the guns that they felt uncertain about using them.

"Humans. About nine, maybe ten of them. All men from the sounds of it, older…and armed, I'm betting from their confidence," Ben reported, "They're poking around the backside of the grocery store, but it won't be long before they wander to the front and spot our vehicles."

Jimmy cursed under his breath and glared accusingly at Ben, "Why didn't you hear them sooner?"

"Uh…why didn't _you_ hear them sooner?" Ben returned snarkily.

"You're the one with the super hearing," Jimmy pointed out.

"Well…I was a little busy, remember?" Ben gestured to the back of the bookstore and shot Jimmy a meaningful look.

"I'm sorry, I forgot," Jimmy grumbled, "Being horny is your kryptonite."

"I'm not even going to bother with the obvious response to that one. Shit, what do we do? I mean, sure, we could probably wait them out here, they don't sound like the types that would poke around a bookstore, but when they see our truck and bike…" Ben whispered.

"They'll definitely take them, or at the very least, come looking for us," Jimmy returned.

"Uh, hey, I got an idea, why don't we just go talk to them?" Roman called quietly. He was squatting on the floor, leaned back against the bookshelf, looking around the corner to Jimmy and Ben.

"Not a good idea," Jimmy answered.

"Why not? They're human, not Skitters. It's not like they'll attack us," Roman replied.

"Actually, it's exactly like they'll attack us," Ben muttered, "Why don't you shut up and let the grown-ups talk for a minute, okay?"

"Why don't I come over there and cram this rifle down your throat?" Roman seethed in return, readying to advance on Ben. Jimmy had to maneuver quickly, practically throwing himself in Ben's lap to hold the boy back, and the sudden move caused Roman to halt dead in his tracks.

"Now's really not the time," Jimmy hastily reminded them both.

"Why don't we slip out and drive off?" Gia piped suggestion.

"They'll hear us, see us. And if they're smart opportunists, they'll hop in their rides and quietly follow us right back to the 2nd Mass," Ben explained, disgruntled.

Jimmy shifted back to his seat and glanced around the counter.

"How much do we want to bet that they're smart?" Douglas wondered.

"_Always_ bet that their smart," Jimmy grumbled.

"I still say we try talking to them," Roman said, "Try giving them the benefit of the doubt, but keep gunmen in position just in case Mason is right and they do attack."

"Ben and me are the only ones who can actually shoot with any reliability," Jimmy pointed out, "So which one of you guys wants to go out and talk to them?"

"Well, shit, I will," Roman started forward.

Ben scowled, snapping, "Sit down. It was a rhetorical question, dumbass."

"Well, how do you know they'll attack? We're all human aren't we?" Roman demanded, then shot Ben a cruel look and amended, "Most of us are, anyway."

"Actually, none of you are," Jimmy retorted, then winced when Ben flinched beside him, whispering apologetically, "I mean…I didn't mean…"

"Rome might be right. Maybe they won't attack us," Gia spoke up, "I mean, they would have to be completely without human decency and compassion. We're only kids, after all, who attacks a group of kids? No one could be that heartless."

"Surprisingly, a lot of people could and almost definitely would attack a group of kids. We make easy targets," Jimmy haggardly espoused, "And honestly, no one really has decency or compassion, hell, those aren't human traits at all, and I'm surprised you haven't figured that out yet, with the way they treat you all at camp."

Gia faltered, her eyes dropping sheepishly to the ground, a gray feeling settling over the group.

"I know they'll attack because, for your information, I do have quite a lot of experience with this kind of situation, and I've made the mistake of attempting to 'just talk', trusting that 'no one could be that heartless' enough times to know all it gets you is a thorough ass kicking, but if you're real lucky, they'll leave you alive enough to learn a lesson for next time," Jimmy griped. He flustered, glared around the counter, mostly because he knew they were all looking at him now and he didn't want to see those predictable expressions, a mixture of shock and horror with a touch of pity. As if that's what he needed; pity from five of the most depressingly pitiable members of the 2nd Mass.

"Why don't we attack them before they attack us?" Kelsey spoke up, and suddenly the attention shifted to her.

"Because we don't attack people," Jimmy stated unsteadily, disquieted by the small girl's contribution. Her words from the drive over suddenly rushing to the forefront of his mind: _Do you always kill what you hate…?_

"Maybe she's on to something, though," Ben whispered, "We could catch them by surprise, corner and disarm them, then talk to them, find out what kind of people they are. If they seem like the bad sort, we'll knock them out and take off."

"I don't know," Jimmy squirmed, "I don't like it."

"At this point, our only other option is to wait and hope they go away," Ben insisted.

Jimmy sighed, relented, and said, "Okay. Fine. So what's the plan?"

"Right now they're all in the grocery store," Ben said, "We can converge on them there."

"I don't want to be a Debby Downer, here," Douglas spoke up, "But there's nine of them and six of us, only two of which can claim to be of any use, as you both seem so fond of insisting. Element of surprise aside, how the fuck do you honestly expect us to corner and disarm these people?"

"Dougie," Gia hissed reprovingly and he shrugged apologetically at her.

Jimmy rubbed a hand over his face and straightened, plans formulating in his mind, as he recalled battle formations and tactical maneuvers that he'd spent long hours listening to Weaver, Professor Mason, Dai, Anthony, and other veteran fighters discussing through the late night and straight into early morning.

"We could put Doug and Kelsey on the exits, block their escape," he said to Ben, "Then I'll take Roman, you take Gia. We'll try picking them off one at a time, separating them from the larger group, subduing them. We'll head north, you guys south, and spiral inward."

"Maybe," Ben allotted, then darted a wary look to Roman, and, just below a whisper, said, "I don't want you going with him, though."

"I know, but I need Roman," Jimmy mumbled, shrugging unhappily at Ben's perturbed look, and the smug smirk that twitched in the corner of Roman's mouth, as he clarified, "Gia is the best shot of the four, she can hit the broadside of a barn at least, and Roman likes to go in swinging…kind of like you…and he has the super strength to back it up."

"It's a perfect swap," Roman noted. Jimmy and Ben both darted looks with varying degrees of annoyance and threat his direction.

"This way Gia can be your sniper and Roman can be my heavy arm," Jimmy concluded.

"You said that we wouldn't have to shoot anything," Gia whispered.

"No, I said you _probably_ wouldn't have to shoot anything," Jimmy reminded her, then sighed and offered up his most sympathetic expression – which looked more like a melancholy glower – and in the best comforting voice he could muster said, "You'll be with Ben, so you probably still won't have to shoot anything. It'll be mostly for show."

"Are you sure about putting those two on the doors?" Ben wondered, motioning to Doug and Kelsey, "I mean, they can stand there and look pretty intimidating with their rifles but it won't do any good if they can't pull the trigger."

"Do we have a choice?" Jimmy returned. He frowned, "Take the girls up to the front side of the store; I'll take the boys around back. If any of them do try getting out of the building to gain an upper hand, they'll most likely go the way they came in, and they'll be more put off by some gangly behemoth boy than a skinny little buck-toothed girl."

"Hey, watch it," Doug complained as Kelsey whimpered, "I was going to get braces before the aliens invaded…"

"It'll take us longer to get around, so give us a minute before you move in," Jimmy instructed Ben.

"I'll know when you're in place. Super-hearing, remember?" Ben replied, and then cheekily pointed out, "And, you know, my kryptonite will be in the back."

Jimmy rolled his eyes, though a soft smile played on his lips.

"That's just so sweet that…that you're making me sick, Mason," Roman scoffed. Ben turned a dangerous glare on the older boy.

"You do anything stupid that puts him in danger, I'll be the one doing the rifle cramming," Ben growled warning.

"Is that a threat or are you hitting on me?" Roman jeered, "Because it would be a cold day in hell…"

"Let's move," Jimmy barked instruction, lifting his rifle at the ready and slinking towards the bookstore exit, the others following hastily behind. He paused at the door, his hand on the handle preparing to push it forward. He looked to Ben, and murmured, "Be careful."

"You too," Ben returned, and then smirked suggestively and teased, "After all, wouldn't want to miss our date tonight."

A blush crept across Jimmy's cheeks. He nodded stiffly, returned his focus to the matter at hand, and shoved the door open.

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A/N: Yay, so Ben and Jimmy _finally_ make semi-amends! Woohoo!

Okay, hurrying to get this up for everyone...please let me know what you think! Input always appreciated.

Reviewers: SassySavanna190, you've been the earliest reviewer as of late, so I'm worried you might've been freaking out. Here's the update, glad you loved last chapter and it's got you thinking back on things that happened chapters ago...because everything is important! And I love writing jealous Ben, he's too obvious if even ever-oblivious Jimmy can catch on. JDMlvr1, LOL, that would be an odd response, "Oh yeah, my dad used to smack me around all the time, so I totally know how to take a hit..." not Jimmy's style, no. Well, thank you for reading and reviewing, you're awesome as always! WhisperMaw, LOL, not really what I meant when I said Jimmy would be getting his edge back, but I'm glad he's earned your favor again. I imagine he might've lost a bit of it again this chapter, maybe? Oh well, just trust when I say he should be making a return to bad-ass status by the end of this story. I'm glad you liked Roman too last chapter, and that Kelsey has you intrigued. Typhoonboom08, I was pretty stoked to see another review from you! Glad you approved of the chapter, Jimmy can pay attention when he wants to...and I'm pretty happy to hear that you're a little interested in seeing Gia's overall role, she's sort of slid under most people's radar, so I'm glad someone's noticed her. Cookie97, so...don't write anymore fluff pieces...got it. Teasing. :D . I told you guys there was a point in the story where the boys wouldn't stop fighting. They do stop eventually, though, I assure you...but then other bad things happen so...yeah. IcicleLilly, I know, I'm mean like that...making it seem like they'll make up and then taking it away! Seriously, though, that was all them constantly at one another's throats like that...I couldn't get them to stop...ugh, boys. I'm glad you dug Gia last chapter, she has her moments I think.

Thank you for the reviews you guys! Hope to hear from you again this chapter, and I'll see you all...wait, what is today...?


	27. Chapter 27

A/N: Happy Birthday to JDMlvr1! I hope you have a great day with lots of celebrating, cake and ice cream!

Thank you to the reviewers, you guys are amazing!

And thank you to Greg for beta-ing.

Read.

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XXVII.

To Ben's relief, it seemed the four unharnessed teens could be stealthy when danger was eminent. Their footfalls were more precise, and they put effort into muting their movements and breathing. Ben kept his focus split between the group of strangers perusing the grocery store, and his charges following at his heel, every so often flicking his attention to Jimmy's group slinking hurriedly up the back way. From the sounds of things, the strangers had split up into pairs or trios, presumably to cover more ground more quickly. It gave Ben, Jimmy, and the others another advantage; they wouldn't have to worry about splitting individuals up from the larger group to pick off one at a time.

As predicted, Ben's group reached their entrance first. Ben used the opportunity to peek inside and get a glimpse of their quasi-enemies. A few of the men were visible, standing in the middle of one of the aisles, talking in low, determined voices. Ben took in their appearances, noting the irony that only moments ago he and Jimmy had discussed looks not being everything. They were burly men, mid-thirties to early-forties, in ripped jeans and heavy jackets. They were all armed, just as Ben had assumed, one toted a sawed off shot-gun, another stood with a submachine gun lazily resting against his shoulder, and the other had a machete hanging at his side.

_I don't like it_, Jimmy had lamented in the bookstore, and a strange sense of dread settled inside of Ben. Maybe they should have brainstormed a few more ideas, or maybe just taken their chances making a run for it.

Ben listened intently for the other men, there were two pairs roaming through the aisles on the north end of the store, while two others wandered alone through aisles on the south end.

Ben grimaced, according to plan, Jimmy and Roman would be heading north when they entered the building, right up to where the strangers were more heavily concentrated. To make matters worse, the three chatting mid-aisle would undoubtedly see Ben and Gia as soon as they made a move for the door. The element of surprise: gone.

Jimmy and his group were almost in place. Ben drew in his breath, let it out slow. He needed to trust in Jimmy's capabilities at that moment, he reminded himself, doing anything less would at best cause another rift between himself and Jimmy, at worst it would screw up their attack plan and endanger everyone. The only problem was, Ben also needed to trust in Roman, and snowflakes had a better chance of falling in hell. He looked back at Gia and Kelsey.

"Gia, let me go in first, count to ten, then follow," Ben instructed in a low whisper, "Kelsey, let them see your rifle barrel but keep out of sight."

"But I thought we had to go in together," Gia protested.

Ben gave her a smoldering look and she fell back, clutching her rifle up towards her chest. From the sounds of things, Jimmy was at the backdoor preparing entry. Ben situated himself so he could slide smoothly through the hole he'd made earlier in the glass door. He heard the click of the backdoor opening and ducked through the hole, gliding onto his feet.

The men had exactly three seconds to register Ben's appearance before he sprinted up towards them, put his fist through the machete-wielder's face, and swiftly kicked the submachine gunman in the groin – both dropped instantly. The sawed-off shotgun had risen to face level, but Ben by-passed its barrel, darting right up next to the gunman and sinking a fist in his gut and then, as he doubled over, finishing him off with a sharp knee to the face. For final good measure, he swept the keel of his foot across the face of the submachine gunman, who was attempting to pick himself back up off the floor. As Ben worked at disarming the three men, now sprawled out unconscious on the ground, Gia sidled anxiously up next to him, her rifle at the ready.

"The others heard," she informed Ben of what he was already aware. He could hear Jimmy and Roman struggling with their first two opponents, but the other two strangers on the north end were already advancing on them.

"Stay with these three," Ben hastily commanded, starting for the south end.

"Wait, I thought we were supposed to…" Gia called protest, but the sound of gunfire cut her words off.

It had come from the north end and it was far too loud to be the report of an assault rifle.

Movement came as pure instinct, an ominous, cold, and ragged feeling bleeding through Ben as if the bullets from that rapid gunfire were ripping right into his own gut. He burst into a sprint towards Jimmy and Roman's location. Adrenaline was kicking violent through his bloodstream and the only thought that managed to push through the cloud in his head was that dreadful moment weeks ago when he arrived back at camp after demolishing the tower, stared into that tent full of haggard warriors, and found Jimmy not standing amongst them. There was more gunfire, a mixed variety now; rifle repeats had entered the symphony of battle.

Jimmy and Roman were ducked behind a freezer shelf of rotted cheeses as cover, exchanging gunfire with a few men scattered behind aisles. Ben came across one of the men attempting to sneak up on the two boys, and rushed him. The man attempted using his gun as a club, but Ben was too quick, dodging under its slow arc and bolting upright with the butt end of his own rifle. There was a gratifying crunch as the man's nose broke under the sheer force of Ben's strength, the man's hand instinctively clasping the wounded area, blood gushing through his fingers. Ben swiped his elbow across the man's jaw, and the man fell unconscious to the ground.

Ben could hear one of the men on the other end of the store howling about a gunshot wound. Jimmy was continuing a stream of bullets as Roman, seated behind their cover, fumbled in Jimmy's pack for the extra clip inside. Ben crept to the edge of the shelving and whistled Jimmy's attention. Jimmy gave him a perfunctory glance out the corner of his eye, his brow furrowing slightly in confusion. Yes, Ben silently answered Jimmy's unvoiced question, he _was_ supposed to be on the other end of the store.

Using Jimmy's splay of gunfire and rattling off a stream of his own, Ben hurriedly crossed to where Jimmy and Roman were knelt, falling beside them.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Jimmy demanded, "Where are the girls?"

Ben sought a rational answer to explain his presence on the wrong end of the store, but beyond, "you were in danger," he couldn't quite find one. And then, as if he weren't feeling sick enough at his foolhardy emotional decision, a high-pitched scream cut through the hail of gunfire.

"Shit," Jimmy seethed, as he slipped behind the counter and Ben took his place returning fire to the men at the end of the store; Roman looked ready to bolt if not for the bullets whizzing overhead and all around him.

Jimmy had a distant, troubled look in his eye, the same one he always got when he was chewing his cheek something vicious as dark, terrible thoughts roiled round his mind. Ben managed to clip one of the men in the shoulder, falling once more behind the cheeses. He strained to hear for the girls, from the sounds of things, Douglas had left his post on the back door, and there was some struggle going on but there wasn't much more that Ben could discern from the chaotic noises.

"Why the fuck would you leave them alone, you piece of shit, bastard?" Roman demanded, gripping Ben's collar violently, and threatening in a low hiss, "Anything happens to them you're a dead man."

"We have to finish this quick," Jimmy decided, his voice underlined with a severe tremble, "Ben, if Roman lays down cover fire, do you think you can you get around to the other side and take out the rest of these guys?"

"Not a great idea, you know, I might 'accidentally' shoot him," Roman said, though he sounded more jeering than concerned.

"Just fire the direction of those men," Jimmy hissed, slamming his rifle at Roman, so as the older boy had additional bullets. He pulled his handgun out of its holster on his back hip, checking its clip, and then cocking it, repositioning himself for a quick move.

"Where are you going?" Ben asked.

"Back for the girls," Jimmy answered starkly.

_To do what you should have done_, Ben mentally finished for him, grimacing and nodding.

The two lovers held one another's eyes for only a heartbeat. The impulse to kiss Jimmy flushed through Ben. They were both about to race through a shower of bullets towards untold dangers, it might be the last they saw one another, but Ben let the feeling pass. Jimmy wouldn't appreciate the sentimental action and he was already pissed by Ben's decision to head the opposite direction of the plan.

As if to signal start, Roman opened fire and Jimmy took off back towards the other end of the store from where Ben had come, keeping his head low and darting behind cover when he could. Ben crossed back over to the shelves, using his own rifle to provide further cover.

Ben swiftly moved up the aisles as Roman continued to provide distraction. The one man Ben had dropped on his approach remained unconscious, which left three men on the other end of the store, two of whom were shot, but as to the severity of their wounds, Ben couldn't be certain. At least, two of the men were still discharging their weapons.

Getting to the other side of the aisles was easy, and Ben moved hasty but silent up along the shelves to come up on the backside of the attacking men. As much as he wanted to listen for Jimmy's movements, he needed to focus on the sounds of his targets. It didn't sit well with him, trusting that Jimmy would be alright by himself against the two armed men, and furthermore, there was no telling what preempted that scream, no telling what Jimmy would find when he reached the girls. Ben grimaced, that terrible sickness churning in his stomach. Whatever happened to the girls, it would be on Ben's hands, and he knew it.

Ben came upon the first two attackers. One of the men lay on the ground, holding his left shoulder, damp with blood that seeped down his shirt front. He whimpered and moaned about the injury, though it looked to have only clipped the side of his arm, wrapped in tight bandages and kept clean, it would heal good as new in several weeks' time. The other man was busy returning Roman's fire around the shelving, he touted a twenty-gauge shotgun, at his feet lay open a box of shells, empty rounds popping out of the gun and falling steaming around his feet. Ben slipped up on the injured man first, muffling any cries for help with a hand over his mouth, and bopping him unconscious quietly on the head.

A single, deafening gunshot sounded off at the other end of the store and caused Ben to hesitate, straining his ears for sounds of Jimmy, heart pounding harsh in his chest, long enough for the shotgun wielder to realize his friend had stopped whining and company had arrived.

The man spun round, catching Ben by surprise, using his shotgun as a club instead of attempting to shoot with it, and glancing the barrel tip off the side of Ben's head, searing the flesh a bit. Ben recovered quickly, the pain of the blow not even registering, as he fell back, blocked a few more strikes, caught hold of the rifle, ripped the man forward – throwing off his balance – and putting a fist through his face. He crumpled to the ground and there was one man left.

There were no more sounds of gunfire on the other end of the store, which deeply troubled Ben. Despite the blaze of bullets around him, straining his ears, he could hear people breathing, hearts beating, a person crying, all at the other end of the store but it was chaotic, co-mingled noises. None of it told him anything as to Jimmy or the others' well beings.

Without thought beyond ending this quickly, Ben maneuvered round the shelves where the bullets whizzed by and ripped through groceries. A few bit into his arms, legs, swipes like kitten claws that snagged his clothes and barely tore the flesh. He bore down on the last man, grabbed him by the gun and collar and tossed him into the shelving across from them, bringing boxes of cereal and oatmeal crashing to the ground. Once more, Ben descended on the barely recovering man, tugging him up by the shirt and preparing to lay him out with a single blow across the brow. The man was in his forties, graying whiskers and stringy hair, tattoo of a crow on the side of his neck, and eyes the color of tea clouded with milk.

"You're one of them," he coughed out and Ben faltered for a heartbeat at the comment.

_One of them_.

The man hadn't seen the spikes along his back, Ben realized, but yet...

_Them…_the aliens.

Ben knocked out the man and then laid him gently to the ground. He took a few steps back, frowning at the rumpled figure, his heart constricted in pain. They'd wanted to strike first, to protect themselves from being attacked, and it seemed perhaps their decision was founded. These people…they didn't see the situation as a group of children taking precautions to keep themselves safe, they saw them as children possibly under alien control.

Ben shook the feeling away. He spun round and sprinted back towards the other side of the store. There was still a strange hush from the south end, and he didn't like it. Roman noticed Ben's changed movement, lowered his weapon and followed, but Ben didn't acknowledge the older boy, his mind was focused on only one thought, and as he approached the front of the store and found Jimmy standing there safe and in one piece, gun lowered in front of himself though still gripped tight in his hands, Ben felt himself able to breathe again.

Until he took in the rest of the scene.

Kelsey lay on the ground by the front entrance, Ben could hear her heart beat, but she was out cold. Roman immediately went to kneel beside her, intently checking her over for obvious injuries. Nearby, lay one of the men, blood pooling beneath his body. Standing a few yards away over the last man, who was unconscious as well, was Douglas with Gia buried, sobbing, against his chest. Although he absently stroked her back in attempt at comforting her, his eyes – like Jimmy's – stared blank at the man bleeding out beside Kelsey.

Ben took a few steps towards Jimmy. Jimmy tensed and Ben paused, catching his breath and attempting to steady his swirling head then he put a hand over Jimmy's – still wrapped tight enough his knuckles were bone white around the gun – and brushed a haste kiss across Jimmy's cheek.

"We have to go," Ben whispered.

A few heartbeats passed, Jimmy unmoved, his breath trembling from his lips, his eyes blank and unfocused, lips slightly parted. He looked still as stone but, standing beside him, Ben could feel the quake of his body. Roman lifted Kelsey from the ground, cradling her gently in his arms, darkened eyes boring into Douglas; the other boy still held Gia loosely to himself.

"Let's move," Roman barked at them.

Jimmy flinched at the sound, he glanced once at Ben, a slight and swift darting gaze, then dropped his eyes to the ground, before squeezing them tightly closed. He wriggled his hand out from Ben's clasp and loosened his hold on the gun, bringing it to hang deadweight at his side.

"You're bleeding," Jimmy noticed, but the words were a low susurration, barely loud enough to be considered a whisper, let alone, audible.

"I'm fine," Ben responded, reaching up to brush the hair from Jimmy's eyes, but Jimmy pulled almost mechanically away from the touch, shoulders bunching up and shaking visibly. The pain of that reaction rippled something awful through Ben, and was made all the more terrible by the knowledge that he deserved it. That he deserved for Jimmy to pull away entirely and never let Ben touch him again. After all, they were standing there because of Ben's decision…and, though perhaps only indirectly, because of the spikes down Ben's back.

They shuffled to the exit, Roman leading the way out of the store. Douglas guided Gia out next, and Jimmy reluctantly followed, Ben trailing behind. They kept their eyes carefully trained away from the man drowning in his own blood. Outside, Jimmy pressed the truck key into Douglas's hand, mumbled instruction that he drive, and then quietly slipped up into the bed. Douglas and Gia hopped into the cabin. Roman climbed into the truck bed, laying Kelsey down with her head rest in his lap.

Ben lingered a moment, studying Jimmy. Jimmy gazed distantly at the supermarket. It was difficult to discern where his thoughts were at in that moment. He had his gun set on his lap; his arms folded over his stomach, his mouth twisted into a small frown. While the desire was on Ben's tongue, itching at its tip, to say something, _anything_, to remind the other boy he was there, his heart and head were too foggy to find the words. He started to reach out, the urge to touch the other boy so strong, he didn't want to leave Jimmy alone there, but there was something in Jimmy's expression, in the way he held himself away from Ben, the way he had his arms wrapped almost protectively around his body, that reminded Ben that this was exactly how Jimmy preferred it, alone with his darkness. So Ben flinched back, turned and walked away. He mounted the bike, kicked it into gear and led the way out of the parking lot back towards camp.

Ben distanced himself from any thoughts about the events that had just transpired as he drove. He couldn't let himself think about it, maybe when they got back to camp, when he could speak in private with Jimmy, but not in that moment when returning to camp safely was the more important task. Instead he focused his attentions on the static noise forever hissing in the back of his mind. It had become oddly muted out at the shopping complex but the closer they drove towards camp, the louder and more insistent it seemed to become. He thought of his conversation with Rick outside of camp. Rick had mentioned 'messages', and Ben found himself wondering, was the noise a signal of some kind? The means by which the 'messages', those strange visions, were being sent. And if that were the case, then did that mean the shopping complex was farther away from the signal than camp?

A realization suddenly struck Ben and he swerved slightly from the sudden impact of his personal eureka. He slowed his pace and steadied himself a moment, then kicked the bike into full throttle for a few seconds, zooming out of sight of the truck and then slowing again to let it catch up. The light he had seen the other night had illuminated the opposite direction of the shopping complex. Rick had thought the light was connected to the visions, even suggested that something near those lights, perhaps even the lights themselves, were sending the visions but there was no evidence to support it until now. Ben's heart was pounding against his ribcage; his breath was sharp and drawn. He furrowed his brow and tried to keep himself calm, as another revelation came to him. The alien structure was located between camp and where those lights had been. Hell, as far as Ben knew, that structure could have been where the lights originated in the first place. And then a question came to mind, a strange, and probably farfetched question: could it be possible there was a bigger reason, something tied to that structure, those lights, that 'signal', that the shopping complex was near devoid of alien presence?

Suddenly, the truck pulled over and, noticing in his side mirror that the vehicle had faded from sight, Ben startled back into reality, confused by the inexplicable maneuver. He doubled round and stopped in front of the truck, dismounting and wandering closer to the vehicle.

Roman and Jimmy stood at the opened driver side door, looking in at Douglas, seated behind the wheel, and Gia beside him in the passenger seat. While Roman seemed to dominate the conversation, Douglas contributed most of the responses, Gia and Jimmy listened intently. Jimmy was leaned back against the driver door, arms folded over his chest, face downcast and features severely drawn. Roman had his hand on the fringe of the door beside Jimmy, supporting the bulk of his weight. It almost appeared that he had Jimmy pinned there, trapped, and right away their positioning put Ben on edge.

"What's going on? Why are we stopping?" Ben demanded, trying to reel back some of the agitation in his voice. He walked around to the other side of Roman, struggling to suppress his violent urges towards that older boy the entire trek. He locked his eyes on Jimmy, a seemingly futile attempt at curbing his unruly nerves. Jimmy's dour disposition did little to put Ben's turbulent emotions at ease.

"We're trying to decide what story to give when we get back to camp," Douglas answered solemnly.

"We really should wait until Kelsey wakes up before we decide anything," Gia whispered.

"There's not really any time," Roman replied solemnly.

"We have to get back to camp," Douglas agreed, almost apologetically.

Ben furrowed his brow.

"Story?" he puzzled, as slowly realization dawned on him.

Kelsey was still out cold in the truck bed it seemed, and Ben wasn't exactly in tip-top shape at that moment either. They were trying to determine an excuse for why those injuries occurred and, more importantly, why they had used more than half their rounds on what should have been an uneventful practice op.

Ben scowled and grumbled, "What do we need a story for? We should just report the truth."

"The truth…you mean, that you fucked everything up and nearly got half our group killed? _That_ truth?" Roman sneered.

Ben faltered, guilt hammering through him, but Jimmy bristled at the comment.

"Shut the fuck up, asshole," Jimmy snapped, lifting himself from the driver door and wandering away a few paces.

They all watched his retreat warily, Ben's features furrowed in concern. Jimmy was stressed, but there was more to his anger than just irritation and anxiety. Watching the other boy, there was a strange sensation in Ben, of understanding but not quite understanding. Ben wondered briefly if this was how everyone, all the sympathetic people anyhow, felt towards himself: understanding that what he went through at the alien's clutches was a terrible ordeal but never being able to fully grasp how terrible because they themselves had not and possibly never would experience it.

"Shot went right through that guy's chest," Douglas murmured, too low for Jimmy to hear. He screwed his expression and disgustedly remarked, "It was gruesome."

"The guy was still alive when we left," Ben whispered response, "It might not have killed him. He could still…"

"You really think he's going to survive a bullet like that?" Gia challenged silently, her words breaking somewhat, "Not without a doctor. Probably not even with…"

"None of this would've happened if you'd just stuck with the plan," Roman bit out harshly, and without reserve. His heated glare fixed on Ben, but Ben couldn't be bothered to tear his eyes from Jimmy and acknowledge the older boy's accusations, at least, not until Roman demanded, "Why the hell didn't you take care of those other two like you were supposed to?"

Ben grimaced, all eyes suddenly intent on him. Even Jimmy paused to glance at Ben askance.

"I…" Ben attempted, slumping slightly as he lowered his head and admitted, "I heard the gunfire and…and I…" He trailed off, sheepishly peeking up at Jimmy, "…I needed to know you were okay."

Jimmy shook his head, turning away. Roman growled low in his throat.

"You left my sisters alone because you needed to make sure he was okay? Of course he was fucking okay, I was with him, and I thought we had an agreement," Roman seethed.

"Agreement…?" Ben baulked.

"Yeah, I take care of him, you take care of them, and no one needs to break anyone's face," Roman explained, straightening and taking a menacing step towards Ben.

"Stop," Jimmy haggardly commanded, his back still to the group, as he said in a low, peevish voice, "Let me get this straight; you heard the gunfire and changed the plans because you didn't trust that I could handle myself?"

"That's not what I said," Ben whispered, insistently, mentally berating himself for saying anything in the first place. He should've just lied, told them he'd forgotten the plan. Looking like an idiot in front of those four was certainly preferable to having this same argument with Jimmy all over again, "I wasn't thinking…is all. I just reacted. You were in danger and…and I just felt like I needed to be there."

Jimmy turned back to peer at Ben, his expression a strange mix of surprise and fear. They both knew the implications of what he was saying.

"You know, Mason, if you trusted him about half as much as you cared about him, none of this ever would of happened," Roman griped, and then he leered at Ben and amended, "Or maybe the problem is that you do trust him that much, you just don't care about him a whole hell of a lot."

The crunch of Roman's jaw beneath the weight of Ben's fist was a satisfying one, and he readied to throw another punch, Roman making attempt at recovering from the sudden jab, until Jimmy and Douglas pushed between the two boys. Douglas had lunged out the side of the driver car, holding Roman back by the shoulders. The older boy shuddered in obvious rage, smearing away the new trickle of blood from his lip. Justice for the split lip he'd dealt Jimmy the other day, Ben decided. Jimmy made a valiant but failed attempt to shove Ben away, but only by putting himself directly in-between Ben and Roman, did he garner any success at all of keeping them from fighting.

"That was a big mistake, Mason…" Roman grumbled.

"If you got something to say to me, asshole, just say it," Ben roared, "I know every kind of bully there is, and you're kind is the lowest scum of them all. You don't have the guts to come at me head-on, so you mutter 'witty' remarks under your breath, as if you're so fucking clever. Stop screwing around and just come right out and say what you think?"

"Ben, cut it out," Jimmy pleaded.

"You want to know what I think?" Roman challenged.

"That's what I said, isn't it?" Ben shot back.

"Rome, this is stupid," Douglas grumbled, "I'm mad at him too but..."

"You _really_ want to know what I think?" Roman pressed.

"Yes, I do," Ben growled.

"What I think is that me, and the rest of them, never would've been harnessed if not for you," Roman spat, "_That's_ what I think."

Ben halted in his struggle against Jimmy. Jimmy relaxed against him, quirking his head to look back at Roman curiously.

"What?" Ban gaped. An ache spreading through his chest and pounding in his skull told him he knew the answer to that question; that he didn't need to, and he really didn't _want_ to hear the explanation.

The passenger door slammed shut, and the four boys startled at the sound. There was a crunch of footsteps approaching from the other side of the truck and then Gia appeared. She squared off in front of Roman, Douglas hurrying aside, out of the way, and her hand suddenly cracked across Roman's cheek. They all stared at her in stun. She put her hands on her hips, glaring out at each of them.

"You boys need to knock the testosterone levels out here down about five notches," she seethed, "In case you all forgot, we have other, more important things to be thinking about right now. We need to think about what we're going to say when we get back to camp. Mason might have the spikes in his back, but we were _all_ harnessed, and if word gets around that we attacked a group of _humans_ and one got shot, it won't matter that Jimmy was the killer, outcry will be for all of _us_ to get kicked out."

Jimmy flinched noticeably at the 'killer' comment and Ben darted a dangerous look at Gia. Maybe she had a point, but she needed to watch how she made it.

"We don't need to think about anything. I'll handle it," Jimmy spoke up, his voice wavering and soft, "I'm the one that's supposed to report in to Weaver anyway…"

"Handle it how?" Roman demanded.

"Yeah, what exactly are you going to say?" Douglas piped up.

"Jimmy…" Ben began quiet question, brushing his hand against Jimmy's own. Jimmy pulled away, trudging towards the back of the truck, and pausing halfway.

"I made the call to go in. I made the plan," he murmured, tensing his body as he whispered, "I pulled the trigger. It's my responsibility; I'll take whatever the consequences are."

"They were going to attack us either way," Ben argued, overwhelmed with a sudden rage, "The man said it…they thought…I guess they thought we were with the aliens. That's why they probably opened fire, right? They thought we were harnessed…being controlled by aliens. Going in, attempting to disarm them first before confronting them…it was the right call, Jimmy. None of this is your fault."

"Let's just get back to camp," Jimmy muttered, continuing to the truck bed and climbing up into it.

Feeling suddenly deprived of air; Ben watched as the others slowly unraveled their discontent and climbed back into the truck. Eventually, begrudgingly, he trekked back towards the bike, remounted, and sent it rocketing towards camp.

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A/N: Yes, so, as you can see, that "cliffhanger" I left you guys several chapters back...not actually a cliffhanger. I wish it was, but I got to use it as one, so that was awesome. Thanks for playing, guys!

Anyhow, yeah...this chapter certainly puts a damper on the evening Ben and Jimmy had planned.

Let me know what you thought!

Reviewers: SassySavanna190, to true about the worm, oh and first thing's first, I'm glad you enjoyed Falling Snow! I hope it didn't answer too many of your questions about this story though, there's still well over forty more chapters to go...oi vey, this story is going to be near eighty chapters? WTF am I doing to myself? Sorry, momentary panic attack. Yes, the bookstore, I have had that scene in my head for the longest time and I'm so excited I finally got it written in the story! Glad you liked it and I hope the "cliffhanger" proved worth the anxious wait. typhoonboom08, tell me about it, bookstore is high on my list of make-out places, has it made your list now? I'm glad to hear the humor was right on task, how'd the action do in this chapter? JDMlvr1, happy birthday, once again! Everyone seemed to enjoy the bookstore scene, which makes me incredibly happy, because I really enjoyed writing it. Hope this chapter made your birthday bright, if not, let me know, maybe I'll type up a quick one-shot for you. Cookie97, caught on to that, huh? Good eye! And I'm glad you liked the chapter...it was a bit sweet. IcicleLilly, ah! Always happy to hear when a chapter earns "favorite" status! Jimmy-Ben flirting time is awesome, and should come in heavy doses, I know, or you all go through withdrawl and take it out on me. I have the reviews to prove it...and I'm glad to hear Gia and Douglas are growing on you. I'm quite fond of them, personally. We'll find out more about all the OCs soon enough. Roman is going to have a few big moments in the next coming chapters, in which we learn quite a lot about his past and a teensy bit of his motives.

Thanks for stopping by, you guys! Always putting a smile on my face.

I'll see you guys next update!


	28. Chapter 28

A/N: Thank you to the reviewers, awesome as ever.

Thank you to Greg for beta-ing.

Read.

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XXVIII.

When they reached the 2nd Mass campsite, Roman immediately left to carry Kelsey over to the medic van. She was still unconscious, and, although Ben felt guilty and somewhat worried, none of her friends seemed concerned that she'd suffered too serious injury. If anything, they only seemed upset that her life had been endangered, for which they unabashedly blamed Ben. Gia and Douglas remained with the truck to unload the newly gathered supplies with a few civilians that had been elected 'Resource Management'.

Jimmy insisted Ben should visit Dr. Glass while he went to report in with Weaver, but Ben refused. So together they stood in front of Weaver more-or-less relaying, through quiet muffles, distressed silences, and worrisome fidgeting, those terrible events that had unfolded at the shopping complex. Weaver listened with a grave expression and furrowed brow, arms folded over his chest. His eyes darted every so often between the two boys. The summation of their story: a group of people snuck up on them, following protocol they assumed the group hostile, plans were made to escape, plans went wrong, and now a man was probably dead.

"It was my fault, captain," Jimmy finished quietly. He had his arms stiff at his side, his hollow gaze fixed on the floor. He shuddered, sniffed absently, and whispered, "I'm sorry. I messed up."

"No, sir, I'm the one that screwed up," Ben cut in heatedly, "Jimmy had a solid plan and…"

"It wasn't a good plan," Jimmy interrupted, sharp-tongued, "I made the call to go in to battle with four rookies, when we should've just retreated while we still had the chance."

"The plan was fine but I made the choice to go against the plans," Ben retorted.

"Which is why it's my fault," Jimmy persisted, "Because I couldn't control the people in my unit," he slumped somewhat and murmured, "You shouldn't have made me point on this assignment, sir, and…and I shouldn't be training Rome and the other unharnessed kids either. I'm sorry, I didn't want to disappoint you, but it needs to be someone with more experience…someone who's a better fighter…"

"Stop that," Ben hissed at Jimmy, then reeling on Weaver, ranted, "Captain, don't listen to anything he says. He's wrong. He had control of everyone _except_ me and you know that's because I don't listen to anyone. He had a good plan and I'm the one that fucked it up."

"And I'm the one that killed a man," Jimmy stated plainly.

"Okay, enough, both of you," Weaver finally spoke, and both boys fell silent, hanging their heads and awaiting the coming tirade. He took a moment to assess them in quiet, before continuing, "While I got to admit, you two always impress me with the new ways you come up with to confuse the hell outta me – fighting over who has to take blame is one thing, but who _gets_ to is a new one for me. Fortunately, far as I can tell, neither of you boys is entirely with or without fault in what took place out there at the shopping complex. So, congrats, boys, I've deemed you both responsible. Though, if anyone's going to take full responsibility for what happened out there, well, it's going to have to be me."

Ben peeked up curiously at the older man, relaxing slightly and darting a glance to Jimmy, but Jimmy remained tense, eyes trained on the ground, hands balled into fists at his sides.

"Ben, I grounded you to camp for a reason, it seems I was premature in my decision to pull you off. I'd thought I'd been too harsh, we all make mistakes in the moment, but discipline, following orders, working in a team, these are quickly becoming your weakest points," Weaver chastised, "Before, you asked me what the big deal was about following protocol and orders, so let me put things into perspective for you right now. You changed the plan handed down to you by your superior and now a man is dead – whether that would have happened or not had you followed the plan, we can't know, but the way his death came about was most definitely directed by your decision and now your friend has to live with the consequences of your actions. I could say, luckily it wasn't one of those girls you left alone that died, but it almost was and very well could have been. Not getting through to you yet? Well, let me put this into further perspective for you, the person who could've died out there could've been your good friend Jimmy, hell it could've been all of them. Next time you think to break protocol or make a quick change of plans, keep this in mind, whose life are you willing to gamble for your own edification? One of your brothers'? One of your friends'? Because those are the lives you're putting at risk, don't ever forget that. Am I understood?"

Ben set his jaw and gave a stiff nod.

"Ben, I asked if…" Weaver pressed.

"It's understood, sir," Ben said firmly.

"Good," Weaver murmured, readjusting his stand and stroking his chin, digesting the moment, "Why don't you go check in with Dr. Glass, right now? You're bleeding on the carpet. Then go pay Hal a visit. I think it'd be better if he heard from you what went down at that complex."

Ben bit back the inward groan and shook his head but, regardless, grit out concession, "Okay, sir."

He hesitated to leave, focus lingering uncertainly on Jimmy. The other boy didn't lift his eyes, his expression was too heavily shadowed to read, but the despair and self-loathing were evident, sickly grayness dripped off him in droves.

"Go, Ben," Weaver commanded.

Ben trudged to the door, darting furtive glances over his shoulder to Jimmy, hoping to at least catch a glimpse of blue, some reassurance of the boy's emotions, but there was nothing. He slipped outside and could hear Weaver gently direct Jimmy to 'sit' before the door clicked shut behind him.

Ben stood in the hallway, anger rippling through him, Weaver's words burning through his veins, smoldering in his chest and thoughts. As if he needed a fucking lecture on how badly things could have gone wrong because of his screw up. As if he didn't understand in that moment, when Jimmy went back for the girls and that single gunshot rang through the store, what he could have lost by his screw up. As if he could have controlled himself from screwing up in the first place when those first gunshots spliced the silence and sent his adrenaline on overdrive.

And now, Weaver was separating Ben from Jimmy when Jimmy was plummeting headfirst into a concrete floor of misery, sending Ben on his merry way to report in to Hal, as if the older brother was suddenly the dictating authority in Ben's life. And for that moment, just that moment, Ben hated Weaver in a way he'd never hated anyone before. It ripped through him, it seeped out of every pore in his body, it churned in his stomach, and sweltered from his feet and hands. Containing that hatred, fighting the devastating urge to do something about it, was almost physically painful, excruciating even.

Maybe Ben didn't work well on a team because he didn't need to be on a fucking team. Like hell he was going to 'pay Hal a visit', he didn't answer to his brother. Fuck, maybe he didn't need to answer to anyone. And where the fuck did Weaver get off, barking at Ben to 'go' so that he could talk with Jimmy, probably attempt to comfort Jimmy? The person who was supposed to be comforting Jimmy right then was Ben and Weaver should know that considering he always acted as though he knew everything.

Ben grimaced, flinching back to reality, startled by his own thoughts. The heat in his stomach died down and turned into a sudden heavy cold feeling. He closed his eyes, drew his breath in and let it out slow. It took him several tries to remind himself he didn't hate Weaver. Weaver had given Ben more chances than anyone else in his position would have given. He was a good captain, he could be wrong at times, but he would admit when he was wrong and do what he could to make things right. Ben relaxed his muscles and ran a hand over his face. And, loathe as he was to admit it, whatever Weaver might say to Jimmy at that moment in that room was probably more likely to reach the boy than anything Ben attempted saying.

With a hefty sigh, emotions under-wraps once more, Ben decided he couldn't stand outside that door forever, not that he wasn't willing to stand there until Jimmy exited; but people were passing through the corridor giving him far warier looks than normal. He really was not in the mood to be gaped at like a dangerous exotic animal in a barred cage; 'look at the vicious razorback, mommy'.

Despite Weaver's recommendation that Ben go see Dr. Glass, it wasn't really necessary. Weaver's observation 'you're bleeding on the carpet' was a bit of an exaggeration. Ben had been grazed by a few bullets, but no serious damage was done. He'd taken to wearing fingerless gloves on duty, which protected his hands for the most part when he put them through other people's faces, so no split knuckles in need of tending to. There was blood, but not enough to warrant medical concern.

Ben started to meander down the hall, weighing his options. He could go find Hal and give his older brother a summary of how things went at the complex. Or, he could stick his hand in a meat grinder. One of the classrooms originally meant for cooking classes, but now serving the purposes of the 2nd Mass cooking staff, had a meat grinder collecting dust that he could use. It seemed like it would be a more productive use of his time; a lot less painful also.

People passed hurriedly by Ben, averted their eyes or glared openly at him. Children paused when rounding corners, doubling back. A group of teenagers paused in their chatter to watch him stroll by. One of the girls in the group whispered something about him at least being "cute" when he'd moved safely passed and all the girls burst into giggles as the boys muttered different comments of disgust or dissent, another brought up Jimmy and the laughter flourished anew. Ben rubbed a hand over his face, an attempt to wipe away his sordid emotions. Despite what his brothers and Jimmy constantly insisted, that he just needed to settle in to the 2nd Mass, ignore them, give them a chance, they'll fall in line, Ben knew staying out of the center and essentially separating himself from the larger group was his only option.

Outside one of the classrooms, its door closed but light on inside, Ben came to a sudden halt. He could hear static inside the room, its pitch and frequency identical to the buzzing in the back of his mind, but he could _hear_ it with his ears, an actual sound. Ben hesitated, listened for a few moments. There were voices in the room, two of them, speaking in hushed whispers.

One of the voices was easy to recognize, he was a well-known figure around camp, Dr. Glass's Uncle Scott. He often spent time teaching the 2nd Mass children, a make-shift teacher to supplement their lost education due to the alien invasion. He also served as a handy-man of sorts. It almost made sense his being in that room with the strange static; he'd been working at repairing an old radio transmitter-receiver. He'd gotten it fixed for a time, but it busted after picking up the 'brainwaves' of a captured Skitter. He still fiddled with it from time to time and had managed to find some parts in an abandoned Radio Shack and in one of the community center classrooms during their travels. Having it up and running again would prove invaluable for getting in touch with other members of the resistance

The other voice was not quite so easy to pinpoint, but Ben recalled it from hiding in the back of that bus days ago with Jimmy. It was the voice of the young man who'd climbed into the First Night with Lourdes. Jamil was his name, if Ben was remembering right. From the sounds of things, they were puzzling over the static.

Ben opened the door and entered the room. Both men startled, they were hovering around the radio, which was propped up on one of the tables, surrounded by different delicate tools and parts. They turned their attentions to the sudden intruder.

"What is that?" Ben demanded, letting the door fall shut behind him.

"Ben. Hey. How are you?" Uncle Scott returned, straightening and seeming to disregard Ben's questions altogether.

Ben's father and Uncle Scott had been something of friends, they were both the scholarly types, and could converse comfortably on a number of intellectual topics. The Mason patriarch's relations with Uncle Scott's niece went a little ways to cementing their friendship as well. In that, Uncle Scott felt a sort of responsibility towards Ben and his brothers. If Dr. Glass wasn't the one watching over Matt, then it was usually Uncle Scott or his wife Kate.

Jamil stiffened somewhat, slinking back a few paces. He and Ben weren't exactly familiar, they'd encountered one another on occasion, even exchanged a few words, but overall, Jamil was much like the rest of the 2nd Mass in his opinions about Ben. He wasn't entirely sure he could trust the 'razorback'.

"I'm fine," Ben snapped, pointing at the radio agitatedly and once more asking, "What is that?"

"Oh yeah, this old piece of junk," Uncle Scott laughed, putting his hands on his hips and motioning at it accusingly, "Jamil and I were tinkering around with it again. I know, everyone thinks it's a waste of time. Kate's been on me to toss the thing, just a waste of space, but I got to hold on to hope, you know. It got us closer to understanding how the minds of those alien creatures work than anything else we've done and it got us briefly in touch with other resistance groups. If we can get it working again…and I thought we might've gotten it, it lit up and started making noise, looked like it may have even caught a signal, but all we can pick up is this awful screeching. We've been twisting these dials, hoping to zero in on the signal, clean it up but…"

Ben wasn't really listening as the older man prattled on about the radio. He took a few steps closer to the table where the radio sat, his eyes slipping closed as he focused intently on the buzzing. Though it sounded like white noise, meaningless and monotonous, for Ben it very clearly wasn't. There was a slight, almost imperceptible pattern to the static, in fact, it didn't sound like one pulsing tone but instead like several tones pulsing together at altering frequency, pitch, and tempo. The longer he listened to it, the clearer it became; no longer was it a whispered static in the back of his mind, now the sound had become more like a sweet, melodious song.

A clear blue ocean stretched before Ben. He could smell the cool water – clean and fresh, taste the salt on his lips, and feel the hot sand between his toes. His mother sat digging in the sand, Matt in her lap piling her sand into his little pail, flipping it over to build towers and turrets. Hal and his father ran through the tide, tossing a Frisbee. Hovering on the horizon, sitting far into the distance like the setting sun, was a silver spacecraft lit in fiery blues and whites.

"This isn't where I was," Ben whispered, squeezing his eyes closed to shut out the blinding sunlight reflecting off the water's surface.

"What's that, hon?" his mother questioned from where she sat, clawing her hands into the sand, digging out a moat around Matt's castle.

"Stop, I'll do it myself," Matt whined.

"Why am I here?" Ben wondered, pushing his voice up a decibel, "I wasn't here before. I was…"

"Ben, what are you talking about? You wanted to come out here," his mother replied. She sighed, concern edging her tone, "Sweetheart, maybe you should go sit in the shade for a little while. You've been standing out in the sun too long. You know it makes you dizzy."

"I wanted…" Ben murmured, furrowing his brow, trying to recall why he felt so out of place.

This was right. This was correct. Everything was exactly as it should be.

It was Sunday morning, they were at Carson Beach. Ben remembered, he had begged and pleaded with his father the night before that they come out. His father had been against it. Hal had lacrosse practice earlier that morning, and Ben had a doctor's appointment in the afternoon, but then Hal's coach cancelled the practice, something about the field needing to be groomed for an upcoming tournament.

"Ben, hon, don't go in the water," his mother called, "You're sensitive to the cold. Remember last time, you got hypothermic, I don't want to rush you to the hospital again."

"I was five, mom, and it was the middle of fall. I'll be fine, it's almost eighty outside," Ben replied, haggard. He took a few steps forward and let the returning tide rush over his bare feet. Tiny shivers raced the length of his spine.

Not too far in the distant waters, there were kids and teenagers, a few adults as well, swimming, diving, and jumping through the crashing waves. Girls sunbathed higher up on the beach in little string bikinis. Young children, toddlers mostly, sprinted in circles near the tide line kicking up muddy sand with floating devices secure on their arms or pulled snug around their waists. Clouds wisped overhead, folding and curling into themselves, pulling and pushing out, spreading themselves so thin that they eventually faded from existence. And the stretch of sky was so blue, Ben felt himself drowning in it. He continued forward, the tide rolling back into the chilled over ocean and dragging him with it.

"Where are you going, son? Don't go into that water," his father called out to Ben, holding the Frisbee in one hand, shielding his eyes with the other.

"I'll be fine," Ben returned, a harsh whisper crossing his lips, "Why is everyone always telling me what to do?"

A few more steps out into the ocean, thigh deep in water now, the sand beneath Ben's feet gave way and he slipped under. He fell deep into the churning waves, he couldn't see the ocean floor beneath him and the surface was too far above to reach. The ocean's embrace was like ice, the sunlight's warmth couldn't cut through the waters he was sinking into. Through the murky black, the flurry of bubbles rushing upwards, he could see a creature writhing, and billowing in the deep. As large as a whale, it resembled an eel in shape; its skin shimmered like the hardened shell of a beetle, its teeth gnashed the water, foam roiling from its every orifice, its countless tentacle-like legs rippled and quaked. Its eyes, milk-white pearls, locked on Ben.

Ben closed his eyes, let himself float a moment, relished in the melancholy feeling of buoyancy. His lungs demanded air; they burst with flame erupting from within. Ice seeped through his skin and bit into his veins. He kicked his legs, thrashed his arms, and aimed for what he hoped was skywards. Seconds felt like minutes felt like hours, an eternal ocean sliding through his fingertips. His heart beat furious, his lungs screamed desperate danger, and his limbs grew weak and weary.

Ben burst the surface of the water and gasped for air. The porcelain squeaked beneath his skin. He opened his eyes and glared, breathless and pained, at the bathtub tiled walls. His bathwater sloshed around him, spilling out onto the floor and splashing into his face. It had long ago cooled to room temperature, sapped him of all body heat. His teeth clattered noisily, and he quivered uncontrollable. His brother banged on the bathroom door.

"Hurry the fuck up, you little waste of space," Hal shouted outside.

"I'll be out in a minute," Ben murmured response, swiping his drenched hair and the slurry of water from out of his face. He attempted to pull himself out of the tub, felt dizzy a moment and slipped back down. He waited, staring starry eyed out at the bathroom he shared with his brothers.

Matt chose the décor, Spongebob curtain and throw rug. Toothbrushes lined the sink, a bottle of mouthwash beside them, and a toothpaste tube spilled its innards over the marble countertop. There were cologne bottles, aftershave and a bottle of hand soap. A few towels hung from the rung, the boys were only supposed to use their own towels, color coded for each: Hal's were the blue ones, Ben's the red, Matt's were all the yellow, but Hal would use whichever one he grabbed first.

"Get out _now_," Hal insisted, "You've been in there for the past fucking hour and a half! It's my turn."

Ben slunk back in the water, tilting his head to stare up at the ceiling. He had caught his breath, his head felt a little less light, but his heart and thoughts were heavy. Tears were rising to the brim of his eyes; he had hoped that they'd finally stopped but it seemed he was wrong. He slipped under the water to wash them away again, effectively muffling his brother's persistent pounding on the door.

If he could only stay like this until the water filled his lungs and pressed out all air, drifting away into an endless abyss, but he couldn't overcome his body's natural instinct to survive. He lifted himself out of the tub, water dripping off his slender naked form into the sloshing bath below. He tore his towel off the rung and buried his face in it; it smelled of fresh laundry detergent. Then he patted it over his feet and legs and wrapped it round his waist. He stepped up to the sink and stared at himself in the mirror over it.

"Dammit, you know that I have plans," Hal complained, "If you make me late…"

Ben choked down a bitter sob. Because that was exactly what he needed right then, a reminder that it was Friday night, and Hal would be going out with friends or whatever girl he had picked out for the occasion and, once again, Ben would be staying in watching Matt, reading some book and dwelling on the memory of the only person he'd felt brave enough to let himself love ripping his confession up before his eyes earlier that day.

Who was going to accept a confession like that anyway? For someone so smart, straight A's in nearly all honors classes, Ben was always making such an idiot of himself. He had foolishly poured his heart out on wide-ruled loose-leaf paper with fumbling lines about conversations and chance encounters that he had known even before the shredded pieces of paper flittered to the floor – if he'd just admitted it to himself before writing them down – only held any meaning to him, and then littered the forgettable reminiscing with clips of poetry. Who was he kidding, pilfering those stanzas, as if anyone actually _liked_ reading sonnets and love ballads?

Ben glared hatefully at his reflection. It was no wonder he'd been rejected…again. He was always being turned away, overlooked, or outright ignored. He had such dull eyes, gaunt features, and bony frame, he was repulsive really, sickly looking, clumsy and all around awkward. He couldn't even make up for his failings of appearance with a good personality. No one liked talking to him, and why should they, he had nothing of worth to add to the conversation; maybe some boring fact, a scientific explanation or a historical note that no one cared to know. He couldn't make anyone laugh or smile, unless they were laughing at him of course. No one would cry over him, yearn for him. Thirteen years old and he was already condemned to a life of solitude.

"You fucking pain in the ass, I'm going to break down this door if you don't get out of the bathroom right now," Hal shouted, pounding his fist against the door. It rattled noisily and Ben flinched.

"Okay, I'm going," Ben snapped, but the anger in his words fizzled and died in his throat. Frustrated, he ran his hand over his face, and then he turned around, unlocked the door, twisted it open, and stepped out.

Into a field of alien flowers, stretching until forever, the girl in white dress stood with her head tilted back and eyes staring up into the far-reaching skies, a sea of black swarming with tiny silver stars. Ben approached her tentatively. He could hear his heart pounding, feel it thumping against his chest, and up into his throat.

"I'm not sure where I am," Ben confessed, "I'm not sure where I'm supposed to be going."

The girl turned towards Ben, her eyes peering up into his own. She extended her hand to him.

"I'll take you where you need to go," she assured him. Ben swallowed hard, furrowed his brow. He started to reach for her hand but stopped inches short, remembered himself, and pulled back, taking a step away.

"This isn't right," he murmured, "This isn't where I want to be."

"It's where you need to be. It's where you're supposed to be," she replied, "Stop fighting and accept it."

…

Hal had heard from some of the other fighters that Ben and his group had returned to camp. That was an hour ago, plenty of time for Ben to report in to Captain Weaver then seek out his family for dinner or, at the very least, to check in. Yet, an hour passed and still no sign of Ben. So Hal left Matt enjoying some beef stew with Dr. Glass in the mess, while he wandered camp in search of his brother. He finally decided to check Ben's tent and, for once, Ben was actually there. Ben stood with his back to the entrance when Hal entered, didn't even bother turning or speaking up to acknowledge his visitor.

"What the hell, you don't think it could be somewhat courteous to stop by after you return from a mission and say 'hi' to your…" Hal started, striding swiftly forward and grabbing hold of Ben's shoulder, aiming to twist the younger boy around with a hard jerk, but Ben spun suddenly, grabbing Hal by the collar and slipping a knife blade up under his chin.

Hal's heart staggered to a halt in his chest, the blood drained from his face. Ben's eyes were dark and unfocused, his grip like iron.

"Ben," Hal began in a low warning growl, "Let me go."

Ben blinked once, twice, and his eyes fluttered back into focus. He flicked his eyes to his brother, to the knife, then all around the tent. He released Hal's collar, took several steps back, looking discomforted, and sheathed the knife.

"Why are you here?" Ben questioned, coughing slightly to cover the tremble in his words.

"Why are you sticking a knife to my throat?" Hal returned sharply. He folded his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes on his little brother.

Ben took another step back and turned away, running a hand over the back of his head, almost sheepish.

"You startled me is all," he stammered response.

"I _startled_ you," Hal repeated incredulous, "So you stick a knife to my throat!"

"Sorry. Shit, Hal, it was a rough mission, alright," Ben growled return.

"How rough?" Hal demanded, and then noting his brother's agitation and anxiousness, questioned, "Are you alright?" and then gently added, "Is Jimmy alright?"

"No. I don't know," Ben murmured, shrugging, and quietly explained, "Another scout group, strangers, showed up at the complex. They were armed and looked hostile. We were worried they'd follow us back to camp if we tried to run, so we thought we'd subdue them, maybe talk to them…I don't know."

Hal groaned, grinding the keel of his hand into his face. He didn't like where he sensed this story going.

"Things got complicated…they opened fire and…and I screwed up and…and Jimmy shot someone," Ben rattled off, folding his arms over his chest and pacing as he spoke.

Hal darted his eyes up to meet his brother's, his brow furrowing heavily, his head suddenly felt heavy and clouded. That wasn't exactly the ending he'd expected.

"Shot someone? Who? How bad…?"

Ben scowled, grimaced, and answered, "One of theirs. Bad. He's probably dead now."

"Oh," Hal murmured, sighed, and lifted his brow in mild stun, "Shit. How is he? Jimmy, I mean…how's he handling it?"

"I don't know," Ben mumbled.

"You don't know?" Hal noted, slightly bemused.

Ben was always attesting to how close he and Jimmy were, how strong their bond, that their 'relationship' ran deeper than the physical, but Jimmy was going through something so emotionally shattering as possibly ending another human being's life and Ben wasn't there with Jimmy, didn't even know where Jimmy's mind was at.

It was typical Ben, as far as Hal was concerned.

When they were younger, Ben believed he could empathize with their family cat. He thought the mangy old tabby understood him, and cared about him but when their father got his job at the university and they were forced to move to Boston, the cat ran away. Ben cried for days about it, and their dad's attempted explanation that the cat probably felt more at home in the old house and decided to return there only made matters worse. Wasn't home with the people you cared about? Did that mean the cat didn't care about him?

Jimmy wasn't exactly a cat and Ben was five at the time, but Hal couldn't help worrying if Ben might be attaching more meaning to their relationship than actually existed. They were in their early teens, at an age when relationships lasted on average two weeks and while they had miraculously managed to surpass that mile marker, the month or so they had lasted didn't exactly earn them bragging rights.

Relationships were in constant flux around the 2nd Mass. There were a lot of teenagers, and almost no adult supervision – basically none if you didn't count the adults who truly could not care less about anyone they weren't directly related to. Teenagers were hooking up and breaking up all the time, and everyone was having sex with someone, the possibility of death looming constantly over one's head tended to have that effect on people.

Hal knew why Ben hated the constant interfering in his relationship with Jimmy, who wouldn't hate it, but Hal really was just trying to protect his brother from an unnecessarily difficult heartache in already difficult times.

Ben could be an intense and sensitive kid, always had been, regardless of what the harness did to him. For Hal, it was distressing how deep Ben seemed to be falling for Jimmy, coupled with his ominous do-or-die thoughts, and it looked like an impending train wreck in Hal's mind.

It didn't help that Jimmy was a tough read. By all outward appearances, Jimmy was a good kid, but for Hal it was alarming how little he knew about the boy considering how long they'd served in the 'trenches' together, and some of the things he did know were mildly disconcerting: he was an orphan, held his liquor well, smoked if he had 'em, dead shot with almost any gun – only recently on the battlefield, liked dogs. He hadn't treated Ben well when the harness was first removed, his sudden change of heart seemed random at best, so it wasn't much of a stretch to assume that for Jimmy, this 'relationship' of theirs might just be a release from the stress of war, and ending it, moving on to someone else, for whatever reason or none at all, could be as easy as flicking away a cigarette butt burnt to its end. What with everything else Ben had been through, it almost wouldn't seem fair to throw that kind of devil-may-care rejection on his shoulders too.

So Ben could hate Hal all he wanted, but Hal would continue to do whatever it took to spare his brother as much of that pain as possible, by putting in every effort he could to keep both boys grounded in reality.

"I haven't had a chance to talk to him. He's with Weaver right now," Ben griped, "But, come on, man; how the fuck do you think he's handling it? Not good, I know that."

Hal ran a hand over the back of his neck, paced through the tent a few times. He wasn't certain what to say. He'd struggled with shooting a Skitter at first. His father had told him that ending a life, no matter how alien, was never easy. But even just thinking about actually ending another human life turned in Hal's stomach a very different and raw emotion. He could chastise Ben for not being with Jimmy and comforting the boy he proclaimed so heartily that he cared for during a time of obvious need, but it really was an impossible expectation. What could Ben possibly say to comfort Jimmy? Hell, Hal wouldn't even know what to say.

"Weaver'll take care of him," Hal said carefully.

"Yeah," Ben muttered, folding his arms over his chest and sniffling loudly. He glared at a spot on the tent's tarp flooring; brow wrinkled severely, expression shadowed and unreadable.

Hal shifted uncomfortably, sought something more to say. It was becoming increasingly difficult adjusting to the changes in Ben's personality. Ben had always been a bit on the quiet side – it was difficult to find people to relate to when his intelligence level was above and beyond that of most, but the disturbing pensive stares and the sudden bursts of anger were new and perturbing. Hal had shrugged away when Ben tossed him against the wall; they were in the middle of a fight and even before the war Ben had taken at least one swing at Hal, ironically during a phase when he claimed to be adopting a lifestyle of 'total pacifism', but Ben pulled a knife on Hal; it was sudden and without provocation. The scariest part had been the expression on Ben's face, the look in his eyes. It almost felt as though Ben wasn't really there, that although he was looking right at Hal, he wasn't seeing Hal.

Hal cleared his throat, "Hang out with me and Matt tonight."

"I kind of wanted to spend time with Jimmy," Ben replied quietly.

"You know he's going to be talking with Weaver for a while," Hal persisted, "Just spend time with us until he's done, it might help take the edge off of everything that happened on that mission. There's going to be a movie playing in the community center main atrium tonight, we can go watch it and by the time it finishes Weaver will probably be finishing up his pep talk with Jimmy."

"I don't know," Ben mumbled. Hal sighed, shaking his head.

"Come on, Ben. You're never really around and even when you are, you aren't. Matt misses you," Hal argued, and then dropping his gaze, said, "I know you're worried about Jimmy but…but family matters too and right now all the family we have is each other. You can't neglect that."

"I don't. I spent the other day playing chess with Matt," Ben returned, then lightheartedly noted, "And I never miss my daily fight with you."

Hal smirked.

Ben ran his hand over his face and sighed.

"Fine," he relented, "We'll go watch the movie…but as _soon_ as Jimmy leaves Weaver, I want to be there."

"Alright, alright," Hal muttered, shaking his head. He started for the tent flap, expecting Ben to follow, but faltered when he realized his brother wasn't moving. He furrowed his brow, "Ben…?"

"Sorry," Ben mumbled, still intently studying the floor. He shrugged, and lifted his eyes, admitted in a hushed lament, "It's just…we had a date tonight."

"A date?" Hal parroted, quirking a brow, "You and Jimmy?"

"Yeah," Ben whispered, "It was supposed to be our first…actual...because we never actually…had…one. And now I guess we still won't…" He scowled, sighed, "I know it sounds stupid."

"It does," Hal confirmed and Ben darted a glare up at him, "But, you know, everything in a relationship basically sounds stupid to everyone else."

A small smile flitted across Ben's features and then quickly flew away, "You're willing to accept that Jimmy and I have a relationship then?"

"I'm willing to accept you're a dork," Hal replied mock-earnest, "Now let's go. We have to hurry and grab Matt if we want to get a good seat for the movie."

Ben moved forward and Hal let him pass to exit the tent first. Following behind, all Hal could see were those spikes in Ben's spine, as thoughts tumbled through his mind of how alien his brother was truly becoming.

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A/N: Going to make this quick, I'm watching some video on creationism...I don't know why.

Right...every time I look at this chapter, I'm like...this shouldn't be as long as it is. But it is. Right, more vision stuff, and then...Hal.

Thank you for stopping in! Please let me know what you think!

Reviewers: Sassysavanna190, yes...I know. I'm trying not to think about the length of this story right know, that's what tends to freak me out. I'm glad the cliffhanger was worth the wait! Don't apologize for writing long reviews, I love that you write such long reviews, it shows you've got a lot of passion for the story. Also, I keep forgetting to mention, a while back you made note of it and I thought it was awesome you caught it, it is pretty important that Ben can make Jimmy laugh, it's important to Ben anyhow, and it comes up in the story way, way, way near the end-ish. typhoonboom08, ah, I feel so lucky right now to be getting so many reviews from you! Yeah, I think it became pretty obvious to Ben in this chapter that his emotional impulses are getting insanely out of control. Glad to hear the action turned out good, and yeah...Roman needed that clocking. JDMlvr1, yes he is. Oh, Ben and Roman cannot be left alone together, that would be dangerous for both of their health..physically for Roman, emotionally for Ben...though he would finally be able to relate with Jimmy on the 'killing another person' bit. I jest, of course, I don't think Ben has it in him to kill someone else. We'll see. No problems on the birthday wishes, I take it you didn't finish reading because you were out hardcore celebrating? I hope it was wonderful!

Thanks for stopping by guys! I hope to hear from you all this chapter and I will see everyone...Thursday. Hah, I remembered. I have a meeting on Tuesday for an anthropology internship at school, so, wish me luck!


	29. Chapter 29

A/N: Update, update! Yay! Um...not a lot of review lately, but the views are up a lot, so I'll take that as a good sign.

That, and the reviews I have gotten are awesome! Thank you to the reviewers, your dedication to this story keeps me dedicated to writing it!

And a huge thank you to Greg for beta-ing.

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XXIX.

After sitting Jimmy down, Weaver took a seat of his own, and silently stared at the young boy for several minutes. Jimmy folded his arms across his knees and leaned over them, leering glumly at the floor. It was difficult to breathe, difficult to think, difficult to lift his eyes and meet that weatherworn expression boring down on him. He felt like a pristine white carpet splattered with thick paint; irrevocably and eternally stained by this one deed, in its moment quick, effortless, watered down so as to be near desensitized, but afterwards, everything dragged, every second felt like a lifetime and was excruciatingly painful.

Weaver stood and paced a few times. Jimmy could hear the older man shuffling across the floor, but he couldn't bring himself to look up. It seemed as though every time he were close to finally washing his hands, of finally being able to forgive himself his sins, he somehow always managed to get them dirty once again. He sunk down farther across his knees and squeezed his eyes shut.

"My dad…" Jimmy started in a low croak.

Weaver shifted, his clothes rustling noisily, as he turned to peer curiously at the young boy. He didn't say anything, waiting patiently for Jimmy to gather his thoughts and continue.

"He didn't believe in guns…that they solved anything. He always said…he said…real men didn't need a gun…that they…they solved things with words or fists," Jimmy finished. He took a deep breath and turned his face up to meet Weaver's sympathetic gaze, though he was clearly confused on where his sympathy should lie: did he pity the young boy for ending a life that night or for the father and, as an extension, the family he lost countless months before? Jimmy shrugged, as if in a sort of answer, and buried his face in a palm, "All I mean is he'd be disappointed in me too."

"I'm not disappointed in you," Weaver said evenly.

Jimmy sniffed softly and nibbled on his inner cheek. Weaver moved back to his chair and took a seat.

"I'm sorry, son," Weaver stated gently. He reached out his hand, as if he intended to take Jimmy's own or to touch his shoulder, express some form of condolence, but he hesitated and pulled back. Jimmy shrunk away regardless, straightening somewhat and drawing his arms inward to wrap protectively around himself.

Minutes ticked by wherein stretched another eternity of silence.

"There are a lot of things I could tell you right now," Weaver spoke again, "Sayings that are meant to comfort a person in times like these," he snorted bemusedly at that and bitterly repeated, "Times like these. When the hell has there ever been a time like this?" He shook his head, was quiet a couple minutes and then suddenly sat up, leaned back in his chair and asked, "Tell me something, Jimmy…where did you go to school?"

Jimmy blinked, shrugged. He never talked about himself, about his past before joining the 2nd Mass, it had for the longest time been his single rule for getting through the war and Weaver never questioned, not taking special interest in his fighters was in a way the old man's own rule for getting through the war. Jimmy knew mentioning his father moments before had been a break in his rule; he just didn't anticipate that it might cause Weaver to break his own.

"Um…Saint Vincent's," Jimmy mumbled answer. Weaver furrowed his brow, nodded his head.

"That's in…uh…in Cambridge, right?"

Jimmy made a small noise in his throat as confirmation.

"It was private," Weaver noted.

Jimmy remained silent.

"That's a good school," Weaver mused and then questioned, "How'd you do there? How were your grades?"

"Okay, I guess," Jimmy answered. It was a lie, he barely passed his classes, but he wasn't certain about the line of questioning, it was disconcerting to say the least. It was hard enough sharing this information with Ben, considering everything else of himself he'd shared with Ben.

"Did you like it there?" Weaver wondered.

"It was school," Jimmy returned plainly.

Weaver laughed, a stilted noise that sounded harsh and dry from too much whiskey-drinking, "Yeah, I guess it was. You had a lot of friends, I suppose?"

"Enough," Jimmy answered quietly.

"Did you play any sports…maybe a member of any clubs?" Weaver questioned.

"I played baseball for a while…but I quit the semester before the invasion," Jimmy replied, and then carefully asked, "Why are you asking me all of this?"

"I don't know," Weaver honestly answered, he leaned forward and wrinkled his brow, explaining, "I'm just…trying to remember."

"Remember…what, sir?"

"The world," Weaver said vaguely, and Jimmy shifted to glance curiously up at the older man, "Where we came from, who we were…aliens dropped on our heads and suddenly…none of it mattered anymore. It does matter, though, doesn't it?"

"I hope not," Jimmy replied haggardly, dropping his gaze to the ground again. There were too many things in his past he regretted that he could never repent for, and too many things about the boy he'd been that he was too ashamed of that it would devastate him to think that he couldn't escape that person.

"You…and the other young fighters in this camp…" Weaver trailed off, smirking solemnly and shaking his head, "We take for granted how cruel this world has truly become, when a young boy has to end the life of another human to spare himself and his friends and a man like me has to tell that young boy that he did the right thing…even though…even though…no one really knows what the right thing is, alien invasion or no, and you're a smart kid, you know that. I'm standing here looking at you, trying to think of something to say that'll take that blood off your hands, but all I can think is, why would I tell you what you did was right when we both know that's bullshit? Right. Wrong. It wasn't so cut and dry before the world ended. Hell, in the goddamned apocalypse, does it even matter anymore?"

"Isn't it supposed to matter, sir…?" Jimmy murmured, "Caring about others…about life…that's what makes us human…right?"

Weaver ran a hand over his face and smiled wryly up at Jimmy, "What do you think?"

Jimmy shrugged, fidgeting with the sleeves of his shirt. He knew what he thought about the subject but he wasn't sure how he was supposed to respond. He almost felt as though Weaver was testing him and given the circumstances, it was certainly a possibility that Weaver was trying to gauge Jimmy's mental state, wanting to determine if Jimmy was fit to fight, or trying to discern if Jimmy was a psychopathic killer. Regardless the reason, Jimmy wasn't certain what answer Weaver would approve.

"I think…" Jimmy stammered, closing his eyes and thinking back to that moment, gun in his hand, leveled on that man, a threat only because he was a stranger, "I think…if that's what makes us human, not many people would qualify."

Weaver snorted softly, leaned back in his chair, and smiled somewhat at Jimmy. Jimmy vaguely returned the expression, and then lowered his face again.

"Is there anything I can tell you to ease the guilt?" Weaver questioned earnestly.

Jimmy shook his head and Weaver nodded.

"Then let's discuss the mission," Weaver decided, clearing his throat and asking, "How did they look out there, our four contenders?"

"Okay, I guess," Jimmy answered. He took a deep breath, straightened, and met Weaver's eye, feeling far more comfortable with the conversation shifting towards less personal matters, "Kelsey worries me. She's…complicated."

Jimmy frowned, picturing the bucktoothed girl and recalling their conversation in the truck. He wasn't certain if she was really so weak or if she was only pretending. She'd been unconscious when he'd reached the girls, the man he'd killed standing over her with his gun at ready, so Jimmy couldn't exactly pass accurate judgment on how well she'd handled herself in the thick of things.

"Gia…pushed to the wall will fight back, but she lost her head out there. She let her emotions get to her and..."

Gia had taken one of the men down before Jimmy arrived with a swift kick in the groin it seemed, from the way he'd been clutching himself and howling bloody murder, but she hadn't been willing to finish that first man off and was on the run from another of the men.

"Douglas is calm under pressure but…I don't think he knows his place in battle. He's not a very good shot, so he won't use the gun, but he's not likely to go hand-to-hand with an enemy either."

Douglas reached the girls about the same time as Jimmy, rushing to Gia's rescue though rather clumsily. Between the two of them, they managed to wrestle the man to the ground and knock him out with the butt of a rifle.

"Roman…" Jimmy faltered, heart squeezing in his chest.

When the men on the north end of the grocery store had opened fire, Roman had grabbed hold of Jimmy, dragging them both down and pinning Jimmy to the ground under his bulky mass for several fluttering heartbeats before Jimmy had gathered his wits enough and stammered instruction to crawl behind the cheese shelves.

"Roman…handled himself well," Jimmy admitted, carefully saying, "He reacted quickly when things got hot. I think…"

Jimmy closed his eyes and drew his breath in then let it out slow and steady, an attempt at alleviating a sudden swelling pressure in his chest.

"I think he and Ben could work well together," he quietly confessed then amended, "That is…if they could ever learn to work together."

"What do you mean by that?" Weaver wondered.

"They don't really like each other, sir," Jimmy explained.

"Ben indicated something along those lines when I spoke to him the other day about this assignment," Weaver said, folding his arms over his chest and severely wrinkling his brow, "Why is that?"

"I don't know," Jimmy lied. Roman's words from their impromptu stop just outside of camp rang loud and clear in his ears: _You want to know what I think…_

"You're sure Ben hasn't mentioned _anything_? Given any kind of reason whatsoever?" Weaver pressed.

"No," Jimmy said, ducking his head to hide the color that warmed his cheeks as he flashed back to the bookstore, his back pressed firm against the wall of books, Ben hot and heavy against him: _I don't like the way he looks at you…_

"I see," Weaver sighed, standing and stalking away a few paces, "I want you and the others to take tomorrow off, rest and collect yourselves. Then I think I'm going to have you finish those four kids' training."

"Sir?" Jimmy murmured, confused. He felt certain he'd failed utterly. A simple practice op had gone from bad to worse under his command, and he'd nearly gotten his four rookies killed. He'd be surprised if they weren't too traumatized to want to continue training as fighters.

"That's only if you feel up to it," Weaver gently remarked.

"I…" Jimmy caught himself, his thoughts jumbling in his mind.

He wasn't sure where Ben stood anymore on the subject of his training the other unharnessed children. It occurred to him he could ask for time to think about it until he'd spoken to Ben.

Jimmy gave a short nod and whispered, "I'll finish it."

"Alright, good," Weaver stated, "Now, you can stay in here awhile if you'd like, clear your head. I feel compelled to recommend you visit Dr. Glass, she's pretty good with the talking."

"Yeah, she is," Jimmy conceded.

"And you can always talk to me, if you need it, you know that?" Weaver concluded.

"Yeah, I know, sir. Thank you, sir," Jimmy mumbled.

"Good," Weaver sighed. He came to stand in front of the seated younger boy, put his hand on Jimmy's shoulder, and stared at him for what seemed a long time, before finally saying in a quiet, weary voice, "You did good out there."

"It doesn't feel like it," Jimmy confessed.

"I wish I could tell you it will one day but…" Weaver shrugged, pacing away and halting near a window. He gazed out in the cold night, distantly remarking, "You never stop questioning if there could've been another way."

"Sir?" Jimmy started uncertainly, worrying his inner cheek and folding and unfolding his hands as he spoke, "You were in…in a war, right? I mean…before."

"I was," Weaver confirmed, "I served during the Gulf War."

"Did you ever…" Jimmy closed his eyes and forced the words out of his throat, "Did you ever kill anyone?"

"I don't know," Weaver admitted easily, though his features were harshly etched, "I fired a lot of bullets at a lot of men during that war and it's possible I killed at least one."

"Oh," Jimmy said. He rubbed his eyes as if wiping away tears though his face was dry and asked, "Is it okay if I leave, sir?"

Weaver looked at Jimmy intently before nodding shortly. He watched as Jimmy stood and shakily walked towards the door, and then turned his gaze back out the window. Jimmy stumbled out into the hallway, letting the door fall heavily shut behind him. He halted, suddenly paralyzed under an intense hawk-eyed gaze.

Of all the people in camp Roman was the last Jimmy would have expected to find waiting outside of Weaver's door. Yet there he was, a few paces down the corridor, squatted down and leaned back against the wall. They stayed in a standstill like that a moment, eyes locked on one another. Jimmy was certain Roman could hear his heart thundering erratic in his chest, he knew the older boy could see how flushed his features had become with the growing warmth in his cheeks. Then Roman rose to his feet, his steady gaze never leaving Jimmy, as Jimmy took a few tentative steps forward.

"How are you?" Roman spoke first.

The question caught Jimmy off-guard, he could think of several unscrupulous, justifiably anger-induced reasons for Roman to be there, but concern for Jimmy's well-being never came to mind.

"I'm okay," Jimmy murmured. He paused in the middle of the corridor, Roman moving towards him and closing much of the comfortable distance between them, "How are the girls?"

"Gia will be alright. She's stronger than she acts," Roman answered easily.

"She acts pretty strong," Jimmy pointed out and Roman simply smirked.

"She's shaken up, but Doug will take care of her," Roman continued. He snorted softly and murmured, "He always does."

Jimmy quirked a brow, taken aback by the comment but, as he thought about it, he wasn't exactly surprised, just a little disappointed in himself for being so oblivious. Of course something was going on between those two, the way they hovered around one another, stood shoulder to shoulder, much like Jimmy and Ben often would.

"Kelsey…?" Jimmy prompted.

"She's with Dr. Glass," Roman answered, "Still out cold, there's a bump on her head but the doc doesn't think it's anything too serious."

Jimmy shuddered, closed his eyes and whispered haggardly, "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Roman demanded, pulling his shoulders back and folding his arms over his broad chest.

"I messed up…and I put your friends in danger…" Jimmy mumbled, "You guys put your trust in me…"

"Gia and Doug told me what happened. You saved their lives," Roman interjected, "As far as I'm concerned, our trust wasn't misplaced, though I'm a little concerned about where your trust is at."

"It wasn't Ben's fault," Jimmy protested, voice breaking slightly as cold, cleaving feelings overwhelmed him; "It was mine."

"He didn't follow the plan. The selfish bastard didn't care about anything but his own interests out there…"

"You're wrong," Jimmy cried, "It wasn't because of the plan…we just…we shouldn't have been in that situation in the first place. Ben should have heard those men coming so that we could've left long before they got there…"

"And that's not his fault?" Roman seethed.

"But instead of paying attention we were in the back of that bookstore making out," Jimmy finished, then clamped his mouth shut quickly on the pronouncement, dropping his gaze and flustering, as Roman flinched back and glared down the corridor.

"I'm still not seeing how that's not his fault," Roman grumbled.

"He was distracted by me," Jimmy whispered explanation. He grimaced and his stomach turned over in sickness. He buried his face in his palm, tears stinging at the edge of his eyes, as the image of that man and the bullet plunging into his chest burned searing white across Jimmy's vision, "I'm sorry…I was the lead, I should have stayed focused and I should've kept him focused. I'm really sorry…I messed up."

"Hey, cut that out," Roman hissed, a strange sudden panic in his tone. Jimmy shook his head, furiously brushed away a stray tear.

"I just…" Jimmy stammered, struggling against the half-sob caught in his throat, burying his face in his palm as words spilled out unbidden from his mouth, "I killed someone today and…and I don't know…I keep thinking it's not real and I keep thinking…and then I picture it…I don't really feel anything and I should feel something, right? Shouldn't I? And…but…I don't…I don't feel _anything_…"

Jimmy faltered as a strong, calloused hand suddenly clapped warm and secure around his neck. He peeked around his hand, his heart halting altogether in his chest, the air swiftly exiting his lungs and refusing to draw back in, a strange icy feeling settling through him. His wide, shimmering eyes studied Roman as the older boy gave a gentle squeeze and traced a thumb across Jimmy's jawline.

"How are you going to cry over some shit like him?" Roman demanded, arguing, "He was a bad guy, ganging up on a couple little girls. You did the world a favor taking someone like him out of it."

Another stray tear fell trembling off Jimmy's chin and Roman sighed exasperatedly, against all obvious reason, dragging Jimmy forward, stumbling into his chest and wrapping an arm across the back of Jimmy's shoulders. Jimmy stood rigid against the older boy. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he should pull from the embrace, but there was a foreign and confusing comfort in Roman's gesture and Jimmy just couldn't find the strength to slap it away.

"Come on, stop it. If you keep this up I might start thinking you aren't as tough as they say," Roman murmured.

"I'm not," Jimmy muttered bitterly.

Regaining himself at the comment, Jimmy took a step back, wiping his eyes dry with the keel of his palm. Roman's arm slipped away though his hand remained firm at Jimmy's neck. When satisfied the tears were gone, Jimmy let his hand fall from his face and seized back in surprise, a feeling like jagged barbed wire constricting in his chest.

"Ben," he whispered, breathless.

The other boy stood several feet down the hall, watching Roman and Jimmy's exchange with a dark and unreadable expression, brow perked and mouth quirked in a small, taut frown. Roman turned slightly to glance once at Ben, though he didn't seem too startled by Ben's arrival, he'd probably heard Ben coming long before reaching out for Jimmy and something in that realization soured the prior moment entirely.

"What's going on?" Ben questioned, his words stiff and forced. He strode closer a few steps, paused and asked in a harsh tone, "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"No," Jimmy mumbled, brushing Roman's hand away self-consciously, "We were just…"

"Talking," Roman cut in, meeting Ben's even glare with a cool one of his own, "Not that it's any of your business."

Jimmy darted an anxious look from Roman to Ben, stammering quickly, quietly, "We were done, actually."

"Yeah, I was just leaving," Roman confirmed, smirking at Jimmy and speaking in a loud tone obviously meant more for Ben's sake than Jimmy's, "Thank you, brat, for cleaning up your razorback's mess out there. I'm sorry you have to suffer because of him," then without warning he placed a hand on a stunned Jimmy's shoulder, pausing momentarily and leaning in to whisper hot against Jimmy's ear, obviously emphasizing the action over keeping the words discreet, as Ben could hear them regardless, "Remember what I said," and finally breezed by, striding quickly out of sight down the hall and around the corner.

Jimmy fixed his eyes on the ground, his breath hitched in his throat. He was too afraid to look at Ben. He could only imagine the terrible, mutinous thoughts of betrayal roiling around in that other boy's head and he didn't want to see them swirling through Ben's features. Jimmy sorted through his mind for some viable explanation for what Ben had just witnessed but he couldn't think of a single reason as to why Roman held Jimmy so intimately and, more importantly, why Jimmy had let him that would be remotely believable and the gravity of it all just sat in Jimmy's gut piercing right through him to the floor below.

Seconds ticked into minutes ticked into eternity.

"You okay?" Ben finally broke the silence. He sounded distant but not angry.

Jimmy dared a quick glance. Ben had turned his back to Jimmy. He was staring at something faraway down the hall. There was obvious tension in the muscles along his back and shoulders. He held himself straight, his chin tilted down, his hands balled in loose fists at his side.

"Yeah," Jimmy mumbled. His voice was so soft he worried for a moment Ben might not have heard him, but then remembered Ben could hear everything. He felt a tightening in his chest as he thought of his conversation with Roman. He ran a hand across his eyes and fumbled for the words, "He…just…Roman was…here…about the girls…"

"Yeah. Right," Ben muttered.

"It's been a long day, I don't want to argue about it right now," Jimmy stated, tone small and solemn.

Ben turned to glance back at Jimmy.

"You know, I wanted to be here to make sure you were okay, but I guess I wasted my time," Ben remarked bitterly, "Is there anything left for me to say or do, or has he already taken care of anything? Do you even need me here right now or should I just go to my tent?"

"Stop that," Jimmy whispered, haggard, it was starting to hurt just thinking of what to say next, forming the words was torture, "It wasn't like that…I already told you… I can barely stand that guy…"

"Yeah, I saw how much you can't stand him," Ben grit out, "You looked so very miserable when I got here, being held in that bastard's arms."

"That's not how it was," Jimmy shook his head, staggering back a few steps, and feeling at a loss, "I don't know what you want me to say…I mean…it's not like I went looking for him. I came out here and he was waiting for me. What was I supposed to do? And you weren't here…"

"I didn't know I was going to have to race someone to be the one there for you," Ben snapped, "Maybe next time I shouldn't be late."

Jimmy grimaced, that old gray feeling spreading through his chest, cold into his limbs. Ben's features were darkening as his words became more heated, more forceful; his expression twisting into something unfamiliar, something so far removed from the gentle, sweet-natured boy that was Ben.

"Or you know what? Maybe next time I won't even show up at all," Ben seethed, it seared right through Jimmy, "Give you plenty of 'unbearable' time with him. Hell, why wait for next time. I'm done now."

The finality of Ben's words slammed right through Jimmy, sent him reeling, as Ben started away. This wasn't right. This wasn't Ben. Something was wrong. Ben wouldn't do this. Ben wouldn't say these things, not so soon after what had happened at the complex.

"Ben, no, wait, don't say that…" Jimmy cried, hurrying to reach forward and catch hold of Ben. His hand barely brushed Ben's arm when Ben spun suddenly round, furling a fist in Jimmy's collar and slamming him back against the wall. Jimmy gasped in pain, the impact shocked down his shoulders, spine and cracked the back of his head, rattled in his chest and rang in his ears, tears springing unbidden from his eyes, and then he flinched as Ben cocked back an arm. Instinctively, he pressed himself flat and tensed his shoulders, squeezing his eyes tightly closed when Ben's fist crushed plaster and drywall, so close to Jimmy's face he could feel the rush of air brush his cheek.

They stood like that a few seconds, Ben holding Jimmy firmly in place, Jimmy seized in a foreign kind of fear, locked in darkness.

Then Ben breathed out a stunned, "Shit."

He loosened his grip on Jimmy but it took several rapid heartbeats before Jimmy could open his eyes. Ben's expression was tormented, haunted. He kept flicking his eyes at the shattered wall, at his fist still tangled up in Jimmy's shirt collar, at his other hand, the knuckles split and bleeding, looking anywhere and everywhere but Jimmy's face.

"I'm sorry," Ben murmured, finally letting Jimmy go and taking a step back. He ran his hands over his face, rubbing his features loose, "I don't…know…how…I'm so sorry."

Jimmy said nothing, gaping. He pleaded silently with his heart to slow in its fitful race. He couldn't move from the spot where Ben had slammed him so violently, he could feel the wall cracked and tender beneath his back. His legs felt ready to give out under him, his head spinning, it was a struggle to remain standing let alone conscious, black splotches exploding across his vision.

Ben took another step away, staring blankly at the ground, shaking his head every now and then and fighting for air.

"I have to go," he whispered, his voice small and faraway.

"What? Go where?" Jimmy questioned, fear swarming through his daze. This wasn't how this conversation was meant to go. Ben was his support, his security. He wasn't supposed to feel so afraid, so paralyzed with uncertainty, not right then, not ever around this boy that he cared for more than he ever thought it possible to care about another person.

"I just…I have to go," Ben repeated, staggering towards the exit.

"No, Ben, wait, please, please don't leave," Jimmy called out, though it came out little more than a hopeless croak. He attempted to chase after Ben but halfway through the first step his vision spun, nausea and abrupt faintness a serious threat. He had to lean against the wall for support.

"No," Ben insisted, he returned for a split of a second, stumbling a few paces towards Jimmy, his body close enough that Jimmy could feel his heat, smell his familiar, soothing scent, and suddenly Jimmy knew he couldn't let Ben walk away, that if he did, he might lose Ben forever.

"Please don't leave me," Jimmy quietly begged, hand reaching out to weakly grab hold of Ben's shirt. He needed Ben. Everything he thought he knew about himself, and about Ben were starting to crumble around him and he needed Ben more than anything in that moment to help him sort it all out and put it back together again.

"Just…just stay away from me right now," Ben hissed, a note of threat underlining his tone, then he turned and strode swiftly away, ignoring Jimmy's distressed pleas at his back not to go.

Eventually, after Ben was long gone, Jimmy collapsed to the ground and buried his face in his knees, giving in to the darkness swirling across his eyes.

* * *

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A/N: OH NO!

I hope Weaver and Jimmy's dialogue came off alright, I can't imagine anyone knowing exactly what to say in a situation like that, and I don't see Weaver being the type to throw out bullshit words of encouragement. Personally, I think Weaver did kill some men during the Gulf War and knows it, he just doesn't want to admit it, it would explain his alcoholism and strained relations with his family.

Righty-o, let me know what you think please!

Reviewers: WhisperMaw, you know, I can't be too down on the low reviews when you find the time to drop in! Wow, it seems you were angry at everyone except Jimmy (finally!) last chapter. Yeah, Ben was a very angsty little boy, and he had plenty of reason to be...and, wow, you were feeling feisty last chapter, wanting to punch everyone. I hope Jimmy and Weaver's convo came out good. Yup, dog, you know I always think of you when I drop in Easter eggs about Jimmy and a dog. Which kind of sounds like I'm lying, but I promise, I'm being sincere. SassySavanna190, ah...two AM reading...I been there, but what are you talking about? The review was awesome as always. Yes, Ben's emotions are starting to overwhelm him, I think it culminates in this chapter, where he realizes things are getting really bad. And I promise, there's a reason for it, and it won't be what anyone is expecting, I think. It's funny you should say that about the rumor-spreading 2nd Mass-ers fighting their own damn war, and you'll see why in several chapters. You're really picking out the character's emotions, I love that. And yes, of course, Ben and Jimmy are going to defend eachother to Weaver. They always do. JDMlvr1, I was a little worried when I didn't see your review for a while. Yes, creepy is exactly what I was going for...maybe. The "visions" are going to start getting perpetually stranger, I hope people are still intrigued about what's going on with those, because I assure you, it's not what you think. I'm glad to hear the other story you were reading was amazing, I hate investing my time in reading a story, only for it to turn out terrible in the end. My meeting went alright, I think...I'm not entirely sure how it went. I think I'm interning in the zooarch lab, but I guess I'll just have to wait and see if I get an email about it soon.

Okie...I have to get ready for work, clean the kitchen, eat breakfast, and get a few lines typed up on Chapter 42 of Fire Light...I know, I know, I'm grievously behind on writing the story. Right? It's about five chapters away from 200,000 words right now, though...that's a lot of writing, and in between I've been working on another Falling Skies fanfic, one I mentioned a while back, it's on chapter five right now...it's a dark future fic, take a very different tone from First Patrol and Fire Light, will involve far more characters from the show, and his heavy laden with political ideology...caters more to my own genre interests. I hope people read it when I post it after Fire Light...and then I'm thinking there might be a third part to Fire Light, but that'll depend on how people feel near the end of the story and how I feel towards the end of the story, but if there is a third part, then Fire Light will end on a cliff hanger, so prepare yourselves.

That's all folks! See you all on...Sunday? Sunday, Sunday...better than Monday...


	30. Chapter 30

A/N: Up until midnight playing a stupid (fantastic) game called Don't Starve. Figured I'd post before I went to bed and that way not have to worry about it for tomorrow. Ugh, I start school up again on Tuesday, and I will interning in the Zooarchaeology lab curating bones and data-entering stuff, so I'm not sure how much time I'll have to focus on this. I may be dropping updates down to once a week...we'll see how much I write tomorrow.

Thank you to the reviewers, awesome as ever! And the return of an old reviewer, woohoo!

Also, as always, thank you to Greg for beta-ing...even though right now I think he wants to hunt me down and throttle me...hopefully he hasn't put together the few clues I've dropped about my location, last thing I need is an angry beta on my doorstep...

Right. Read.

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XXX.

The sun splintered the horizon in a citrus explosion, tangerine, lemon, grapefruit colors, by the time Ben staggered back into camp. He slipped easily into the showers, by-passing the fighters coming in or going out on patrol and the civilians waking to start their chores for the day, thankful to find the locker room empty. He drenched himself in cold water, leaning against the shower's tile wall as icy droplets bit into his flesh and cascaded down his clothed backside. He couldn't recall the night.

Skitters, somewhere, were dead. Of that, he was certain. He was covered in their entrails after all. How many were dead and where he'd killed them were all minor details anyhow. The only thing that really mattered was that he'd spent the entire night killing them instead of where he should have been, in camp beside Jimmy.

And where had Jimmy spent the night? Maybe he'd hidden himself in a store closet somewhere - the way he was wont to do on those rare yet painful occasions when seeing Ben was the greater evil - and sulked alone? Or maybe he'd taken Ben's heated recommendation and sought out comfort in Roman's arms.

Ben ran a hand over his face and head, knocking water back and flinging it across the shower. He twisted the faucet off and stood for a moment, listening to the droplets falling from his body and splattering to the floor. He flashed momentarily on Jimmy in that hall, leaned in against Roman's chest, that bastard's arm draped casually across Jimmy's shoulders as if it belonged there. At the sight, a sinister kind of substance had seeped into Ben's veins and ran him cold. The words that spat like venom from his mouth, his volatile actions, from that point on were outside of his control. He couldn't stop himself, even when the pain and fear contorted in Jimmy's features broke his heart and begged him to let it go.

Jimmy had already been in a dark place and all Ben had managed to do was shove him farther into the darkness.

And then Ben blacked out. He didn't know how much time he'd lost, maybe a few seconds, a few minutes. However much didn't matter, it was long enough for him to pin Jimmy and put a fist through the wall. Long enough for Jimmy to see, to learn, why he really should fear the dreaded 'razorback'. Ben couldn't be certain what hurt more in that moment, the obvious pain he'd caused Jimmy, or the pure fear painted in Jimmy's expression.

Ben stepped out of the shower, drenched. He stalked across camp back to his tent, disregarding the glares shot his direction from civilians and fighters alike. Inside the isolation of his tent, he peeled away his shirt and examined himself. There were fresh injuries; three tears ran parallel across his chest, one puncture just above his right hip, five more lacerations sporadically placed along his back. Dark purple bruises formed around the various wounds, blood pooling to the surface. Distantly, he could sense further bruising across his back, his shoulders, on his forearms, and his legs. It didn't matter. He was numb to the pain, courtesy of the harness.

Squat over his duffel bag looking for the first aid kit and a clean shirt, Ben's mind wandered back to the last time he was in his tent. He'd startled hard back into reality from another blackout to find his knife pressed under Hal's chin and while the eldest Mason sibling handled it with aplomb, and Ben had been able to rationally explain the action away, the thought certainly crossed both brothers' minds, it could've been someone else who didn't handle the situation right. It could've been Matt. Ben shuddered from the memory and then froze at the sounds of shuffling outside his tent's entry flap.

"Ben?"

Ben slumped slightly, let guilt swarm over him, ripping into him anew with a tint of anger at himself and though to a lesser degree also at the boy standing outside. Sometimes that boy could be so stubborn he'd walk right into a pit of vipers rather than admit defeat.

"Ben…can I come in?"

Ben rose up from the ground and answered in an unintentionally harsh tone, "Yeah, fine."

Tentatively, Jimmy entered, hands in his pockets, eyes downcast. Ben stood uncertainly near the back of the tent, carefully studying the other boy. Jimmy didn't look any better than he had in that grocery store standing paralyzed with his still smoking gun poised to shoot. Blue, haunted and shivering, lifted to meet Ben's imploring expression and then widened at the sight.

"Jesus Christ, Ben," Jimmy gasped, starting forward as if forgetting for a moment their fight the night before. He faltered, remembered himself, reeled back and dropped his gaze again, demanding shakily, "What happened?"

"I don't know," Ben murmured honestly, whispering, "I guess I went hunting."

"You guess?" Jimmy challenged, quirking a brow and gaping at the other boy, "You're not sure?"

"I'm not sure of a lot of things lately," Ben confessed.

Jimmy flinched at the comment, believing Ben was referring to him and Roman, and maybe were circumstances different he would be right, if not for the obvious distance he maintained between himself and Ben, the way he hovered with his arms cinched tight – protective – around himself, the way he refused to meet Ben's eyes as if Ben couldn't see the fear laden there regardless.

"Did I hurt you?" Ben wondered. He grimaced at the break in his own voice.

Jimmy shook his head, but lowered his face to obscure whatever emotion might be evident in his features. He didn't have to because Ben already knew the real answer. He'd seen the effects of his actions etched in Jimmy's pained expression the night before. The question shouldn't have been 'did he', but instead 'how severely'.

"It was my fault," Jimmy murmured.

Ben remained silent, glaring at the ground. He could hear the shuffle of Jimmy's feet, a rustling of clothes, a soft relenting sigh.

"What I said before…I think I might have been wrong. It turns out…Roman might like me a little more than you, after all," Jimmy said. He tried to keep his tone light but it came out too painstakingly strained. He paused, sniffled, and whispered, "It doesn't mean anything to me, Ben; you have to believe that. _Please_ believe that."

"Jimmy…" Ben began.

"Where's your first aid kit?" Jimmy cut in.

Ben furrowed his brow and peeked up curiously at the other boy.

"What? I can't just stand here having a conversation, staring at you in this condition, pretending like you don't look as though you went five _hundred_ rounds at an ultimate fighter championship," Jimmy snapped, flustered, "Where's your kit?"

"Duffle…" Ben answered, distantly gesturing the bag at his feet with his hand.

Jimmy strode across the tent and knelt, unzipping the bag and rifling through its contents. He tugged out a bloody, tattered shirt, and tossed it aside, and then pulled out another one. He darted a harsh, accusatory glare up at Ben standing frozen overhead, watching blank and dazed at the other boy's inexplicable actions.

"You're an idiot, you know that, right? Go sit down," Jimmy grumbled.

Ben hesitated, taken aback at the heated instruction, then meandered to his rumpled sleeping bag and carefully sat down on it. He glared at his hands and tried to straighten out the jumbled thoughts and memory gaps in his head. Meanwhile, Jimmy dug through the duffle, muttering disgustedly under his breath about the sorry state of Ben's belongings and, "…as if he's got any fucking room to criticize how well I take care of myself…"

Eventually Jimmy found the kit and crossed the tent; dropping to the ground beside Ben, sitting with his legs folded Indian-style. He plopped the ragged red bag filled with emergency medical supplies in his lap and opened it, tugging out the gauze and iodine. He had brought one of the tattered shirts with him and now dumped alcohol on it from a brown bottle, giving Ben an expectant look. Ben straightened, allowing Jimmy access to the injuries across his chest.

For several minutes, they were silent. Jimmy mopped up much of the blood with his make-shift rag; hands shaking as he clumsily dumped more alcohol on the injuries and used the rag to soak up excess. Ben leaned back on his palms, head tilted back to study the tent roof. He barely registered the sting of alcohol in his wounds, only feeling the delicate, tingling touch of Jimmy's finger tips. He couldn't explain how important this moment was to him. Not to himself, not to his brother, certainly not to Jimmy, to sit there in quiet reprieve with this one other person, perhaps the only person in the world who somehow managed to forgive him his every mistake, who beyond all sense of reason seemed to still care deeply enough about him to nurse his injuries despite disapproving of the decisions and actions he took to get them.

"I don't remember," Ben admitted.

"Remember what?" Jimmy muttered.

"Hunting," Ben expanded. He sighed, smirked darkly and continued, "I don't remember anything from last night. It's all a blank."

Jimmy paused in his tending and breathed out a shocked, "What do you mean?"

"I remember leaving you in the community center…and then…coming back into camp this morning. The hours between that…nothing."

"What are you saying? What does that mean?" Jimmy stammered, raising his eyes to search Ben's features. But it was obvious in his expression that he knew where Ben was headed.

"Remember at the gun range, when I…?" Ben faltered, straightening and meeting Jimmy's gaze.

A strange tint of sadness touched the other boy's eyes and Ben smiled faintly. Yeah, of course Jimmy remembered. How could either of them ever forget? How could they ever forget that moment or the one in the center? Those moments which were slowly corrupting the one beautiful thing Ben had ever been able to grasp in his life.

"I told you I lost control. That lately I've been…"

"Yeah."

"Well, it's been getting worse. I feel like I have way too much energy all the time and I get agitated and angry really easy," Ben continued, Jimmy's brow wrinkled.

"I've noticed."

"It's why I've been hunting…it helps…sort of," Ben explained and Jimmy straightened at that. Ben cleared his throat, "I told you before, that even I don't know if I'm still under their control…"

"You're not," Jimmy insisted, but there wasn't any conviction in his words.

"I don't remember what I did to you," Ben confessed. He started a hand forward to brush the stray hair from Jimmy's eyes, but stopped himself just short, "Last night, when we got in that fight, I don't know how you ended up against the wall and…and before that, I don't know how I ended up with your arm in my hand outside the gun range and…and…and…and I don't know how I got back to my tent after I left Weaver's last night, or how I ended up pulling a knife on Hal…"

"What? Knife on…" Jimmy cried, pulling back, surprised, "When did you…?"

"I don't know," Ben repeated. He grimaced, a sudden realization coming to him, "You need to stay away from me."

"No," Jimmy protested.

"I don't know what's happening to me and I don't know what I'm capable of right now," Ben said, "I don't know if…if next time I'll hit the wall or if I'll…if I'll hit you or worse…what if next time I put the knife to your throat, or what if I don't stop there, what if I just slice your throat open?"

"Don't say that! You won't. I know you won't."

"You can't know. I don't even know. Jimmy…you have to stay away from me."

"I can't do that," Jimmy insisted, shaking his head and reaffirming, "I won't do that. I'm not afraid of you, Ben."

"Yes, you are," Ben choked out, "I've seen it in your eyes. You're scared of me right now. And even if you weren't, I'm scared of me enough for the both of us."

"That's not true…"

"I can't lose you again," Jimmy flinched back, falling silent at the words, and Ben took a deep breath, continued, "And I can't be the reason I lose you."

"That's stupid. If you don't want to lose me, then don't do this," Jimmy argued. He dropped his gaze to the bloodied rag in his hands, and in a small but firm voice told Ben, "Back at the bookstore, you said you knew what you were getting into with me. Well, it works both ways. I knew what I was getting into with you too. I'm not afraid of the harness and I'll be damned if it's the reason I lose you."

"Jimmy," Ben protested.

"Knock it off," Jimmy snapped, "I told you that I would be the one to decide when I wanted to stop hanging around you and I haven't decided that yet, and that's final…end of discussion…so…shut up."

They fell silent. Jimmy returned his attention to Ben's injuries and Ben relented, tipping his head back to stare at the tent roof.

"We'll figure something out," Jimmy said, attempting to sound reassuring, "Maybe Dr. Glass…"

"I already talked to her," Ben mumbled, "She can't help me. Her advice was to just keep hunting – well, I told her running – and messing around with you. She was actually very supportive of me messing around with you as an outlet for my excess energy. I wonder if I could get her to write me a prescription for sex."

Jimmy paused. He fixed his eyes on one of the bruises on Ben's chest.

"You really are worried about this," he noted with a touch of surprise. He smirked suddenly and met Ben's eyes, "Hey, a prescription might get Hal off your back about us spending time together."

Jimmy placed a bit of gauze over the scars on Ben's chest and used the medical tape to pin it down. He crawled around to Ben's backside, and Ben straightened so that he could begin cleaning the scars there.

"Is this is the real reason why you've been lying to me?" Jimmy questioned, "Because of the harness…?"

"Yeah. I guess so," Ben replied.

Jimmy absently traced his fingers along the spikes as he dabbed the alcohol soaked rag along Ben's injuries and Ben shuddered at the feel, smiling distantly. Jimmy was silent a long time and Ben wondered with a pang of dismay if the other boy was angry, and then mentally berated himself, of course Jimmy was angry, he had every reason to be, lying about hunting was one thing, lying about possibly still being under alien control was another thing entirely.

"Well…" Jimmy finally spoke again, "I guess you are one of the only people in the world that can get away with the excuse 'aliens made me act like a jerk'."

"So what's your excuse?" Ben teased, suddenly elated by the comment, and then winced when Jimmy flicked his ear.

They were quiet again. Jimmy shuffled around to grab the first aid kit, digging inside for a roll of bandages.

"I'm surprised you actually believe me," Ben said quietly. He frowned and amended, "Not that I'm lying. It's just…"

"Actually, I don't believe you," Jimmy responded in a hard tone.

Ben lowered his head, glared at the gauze wrinkling across his chest. Jimmy's harsh words from their fight the other night came rushing painfully back to the forefront of his mind: _I can't believe I trusted you…_

"It's just that…it's so ridiculous a story, I don't even think you could come up with a lie this bad," Jimmy explained, then he muttered under his breath, "That…and it's kind of hard to be mad at you when you look so pathetic and you aren't wearing a shirt."

Ben straightened, quirking a brow at that. An almost cruel smile overtook his features.

"Wait a minute…I'm sorry, did I hear that right? My lack of shirt is making it hard for you to stay mad? Is my manly chest distracting you?" he questioned light-heartedly.

"That is not what I meant," Jimmy stammered, flustering.

"Oh ho, who's lying now? That is exactly what you meant," Ben persisted, suddenly feeling like a five year old that won the candy lottery, "I'm apparently not the only one weakened by my hormones. For future reference, should I be shirtless whenever I have to tell you something you won't like? Will you always take it this well if I do?"

"Ben…" Jimmy groaned.

"And how does that work when we get in fights? Is shirtless good enough, or will I need to strip down to full nudity?"

Jimmy buried his face in his hand and moaned, "Will you shut up!"

"Uh oh, you sound like you might be getting angry. I should probably start removing my pants then, huh?"

Jimmy finally started laughing at that and it took a few seconds for him to quiet again. Then he looked at Ben with a soft smile and Ben grinned proudly at him in return. Jimmy moved forward, sitting on his knees in front of Ben and balancing himself on Ben's shoulders, he touched his lips to Ben's own. Ben responded almost immediately, wrapping his arm around Jimmy's waist, pulling the boy closer and deepening their kiss. They broke apart and rest their foreheads together.

"Let me make sure I got this straight," Ben murmured, "I tried to break up with you and you basically just told me no."

Jimmy shrugged, smirked, "Pretty much."

"Your stubbornness knows no bounds," Ben mused.

"We'll figure something out…with your losing control thing," Jimmy assured Ben.

Ben frowned and nodded stiffly.

"But if it gets worse…" he started.

"We'll figure it out," Jimmy repeated firmly.

Ben knew what the right choice was, the choice that kept Jimmy safe was to keep Jimmy at a distance, but he couldn't stand behind that decision, not when Jimmy was begging to be allowed to stay. So against all reason he let it drop. He had always heard that love made you do stupid things; maybe this was what that meant. Jimmy helped Ben wrap the bandages around his midsection and tied it off. Then Ben pulled Jimmy into his arms and crushed him in an all-consuming kiss. They broke apart breathless.

"How are you…with the whole…that thing that happened," Ben carefully questioned. It was a coin toss how Jimmy would respond to his bringing it up, and he knew Jimmy would rather it never be mentioned, but Ben had to know.

Jimmy shrugged, crinkling his brow. He sighed, sunk against Ben. He'd started doing that in recent times, letting himself rest entirely against Ben as his support, burying his face pleasantly in the crook of Ben's neck. It spread this warm inexplicably pleasant feeling through Ben. He'd learned quickly not to draw attention to it, Jimmy would pull away so fast it was a wonder he didn't give himself whiplash, so instead Ben comfortably relished in the moment.

"I guess it's not the first person I've killed," Jimmy mumbled distantly. He tried to sound nonchalant about it but there was a more than perceptible quake in his words that shook painfully through Ben.

Ben tried to think of something, anything comforting to say but how exactly did one go about expressing their sympathies to someone for taking another human's life?

"What the hell is that?" Jimmy demanded suddenly, jerking back.

* * *

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A/N: A lot of people seemed to think I was going to separate the boys for a few chapters, so now I'm a little worried this chapter might come off weird...honestly, I needed a catalyst for Ben to finally confess to Jimmy about his loses in time, and what better vehicle is there than him nearly cramming a fist down the love of his life's throat?

Oh wells. Honestly, though, I am gearing the boys up for some major heartache in later chapters...when things start to look good between them, that's when I plan to strike and strike hard!

Like a ninja.

And this is why I don't typically write A/N in the middle of the night.

Right, let me know what you think please and thank you very, very, very much!

Reviewers: typhoonboom08, ah...yes, cake. I love cake. Um...no, I guess you weren't warm. Though honestly, I did toy with breaking the boys up for several chapters, have this whole dramatic scene where Jimmy gives Ben an ultimatum: me or hunting, and Ben chooses hunting...sort of...but it would have made the whole story unnecessarily longer than it already will be. Um...don't fret, though, there will be plenty of Jimmy/Maggie bonding chapters, because everyone knows I love that relationship, and Ben/Rick bonding time too...somewhere down the line. Also, personal hells...yes, the boys will be writhing in their own personal hells for about a third...two/thirds of this story...augh, tired. You'll see. WhisperMaw, that certainly was longer than usual, and you came back for more. Of course, I know that's because you love angst and drama almost as much, if not more than me. You're right, that moment was different, I never got into it, but in previous physical altercations between Ben and Jimmy, you have to know, Ben holds back a lot. In that moment, no control, full force punch...he could have broken poor Jimmy like a porcelain doll. Glad Weaver's stuff came out good for you, I'll definitely be getting more in Roman and Kelsey's characters, and I'm glad to hear you're eager for more reading! JDMlvr1, yeah, Roman did a bad, bad thing. He's a bit of a complicated character right now...his motivations are a bit foggy at the moment. Not for me, but him, I mean. Glad you dug the scene! WhisperMaw, intentional, not really...though I do recall when writing it thinking that some readers may draw the parallel, and I sort of knew it might be you to note it...both scenes kind of revolve around the same moral: when aliens invade, don't fool around on an op, no matter how "safe and easy" it's supposed to be. Guest, it couldn't possibly be because he's condescending, arrogant, punched Jimmy, and hates Ben, could it? Lol, thanks for stopping by, I hope this chapter was well worth the wait. Haley! I was worried about you! I'm sorry you were sick, glad you're feeling better and back in full "awww"-some force.

Right. You guys rock! See you...Thursday, with either bad or good news about updates. We'll see.


	31. Chapter 31

A/N: It's 5:30 in the morning and I am dead tired, have to run to class in a little bit...ugh...so forgive me if I sound a bit out of it.

Thank you to the reviewers for being your ever awesome selves!

And thank you to Greg for being the beta-max...

Read.

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XXXI.

Ben furrowed his brow, confused, and followed Jimmy's dangerous glare. His eyes were fixed on the stack of books, three in total that Ben had managed through the sudden shit-storm to bring with him from their shopping trip. Jimmy tugged away and crossed the room, knocking the stack over and plucking up the book on the bottom. He crossed back to Ben and shoved it against Ben's chest.

"What the hell _is_ that?" Jimmy seethed.

Ben frowned, turning the book over in his hands to get a look at the cover.

"Oh," he said, finally processing what he held. He smiled cheekily at the other boy, "It's a book. I know you haven't seen many in your life, you've read even less…"

"Fuck you. Why is it here?" Jimmy interjected hotly.

"I'm still not wearing a shirt…so I should be safe," Ben murmured humorously, before proclaiming, "I thought it would be a good, educational read."

"You _are_ a pervert," Jimmy accused.

"I'm not a pervert," Ben protested. He shook his head and grumbled, "Jeez, Jimmy, it's not porn, it's an instruction book. On. Um. Sex. Between men. We're men, sort of. So I kind of thought that…it might…possibly…be relevant. To our situation."

Jimmy scowled, folded his arms over his chest.

Ben rolled his eyes, "Don't act like you're not interested."

Jimmy loosened slightly. His expression remained the same, though he dropped his gaze a bit. Ben had to fight the urge to smile. Jimmy was really going to just keep pretending he hadn't been thumbing through that book in the bookstore in those few minutes before Ben had found him. Ben sighed, as though exasperated.

"Come on, Jimmy, you can't possibly want to just keep doing what we're doing forever," Ben persisted.

"I thought you liked what we did," Jimmy complained.

"I do," Ben hastily insisted, "I really do. And that's why, you know, I kind of want to, eventually, start doing more."

Jimmy didn't look entirely convinced.

"Seriously, you cannot honestly tell me you're satisfied with where we are and you don't ever want to do anything else," Ben pressed.

"Well…I just…" Jimmy shrugged, and pouted somewhat subconsciously, "I like where we're at. I know what to do and I know what's going to happen and…and I don't need to read a fucking book to know how to do it."

"So what you're saying is that you're comfortable with where we're at."

"I guess."

"But I didn't hear 'satisfied'."

Jimmy took a deep breath and glared petulantly at Ben. Ben smiled winningly in return.

"Come on, Jimmy. We're stuck, and it's not like we can ask someone, or look on the internet," Ben pleaded, waving the book in the air, "You know, we've pretty much got the first three chapters down…but there are like eight more chapters in this thing."

Jimmy sighed, shook his head and slumped slightly. He took a deep breath and looked up at Ben warily.

"You have to ask me before you try anything in that book," Jimmy growled.

"Cool," Ben grinned, bounding over beside Jimmy and flipping through the book to a page he'd dog-eared in the bookstore, pushing it under the other boy's nose, "I want to try this."

Jimmy took the book and Ben watched anxiously as he read the passages. Slowly Jimmy's features shifted from confused, to bashful, to somewhat disgusted, to concerned, and finally, an indiscernible expression, almost his entire face a noticeable shade of red. He closed the book and then used it to whack Ben across the shoulder.

"What?" Ben cried in modest surprise, "I thought it sounded…I don't know…fun and it seemed tame enough…"

"And exactly whose fingers were you thinking would be doing _this_?" Jimmy demanded, thrusting the book back at Ben. Ben shrugged sheepishly.

"I don't know…" he mumbled, "Maybe we could both try…"

"No," Jimmy snapped, flushed and shaking his head emphatically, "Not happening. No. No, no, no."

"So that's a maybe," Ben teased.

"That's an 'if I had a gun, I'd shoot you right now'," Jimmy said.

"So that's a definitely, then," Ben smirked, dragging Jimmy into a kiss.

"What happened to you wanting to break up?" Jimmy wondered, his tone light.

"Well, you said 'no', remember," Ben replied, joking, "And, you know, I can't make you do anything you don't want to do."

Jimmy scowled, and then relented, "Okay…_maybe_…we'll talk about it again later."

Ben smiled, pressing his mouth to Jimmy's, diving his tongue in for a swift taste. He wondered briefly why it couldn't always be this way between them. When they were alone, just the two of them, everything felt so natural and easy. It felt like the beginning, when it was just walking around, talking about nothing on nightly patrols and learning how to kiss each other in an old abandoned ranger station. Somewhere along the way it all got so complicated. Everyone and everything else, Hal, Weaver, expectations, the war, the aliens, Roman and the other unharnessed children, responsibilities, the future and what was or needed to happen next just kept getting in the way.

If they could go back, back to before, back to before the storage closet, the warehouse, the first kiss, the first patrol, Ben wondered, would they still want to do it all over again? He almost wished he could go back, stop from saying those words, "I like you, Jimmy," just to see if it would've, could've happened differently. Talking to Jimmy in that bed, dreaming of a future that never was, he hadn't been certain what he was searching for. Maybe some validation that this was how it was always supposed to be, the two of them together like this. No matter the life, no matter the choices, no matter the distance in time and space, that this was their fate, each other. Maybe then he could think about the future with some kind of certainty.

"That reminds me," Ben said suddenly, kissing Jimmy again, "I got something for you."

Ben pulled away, heading towards his duffle bag and fumbling around in the front pocket. Jimmy watched curiously. Ben produced the bottle of ointment he'd gotten from Dr. Glass and held it up with a smile.

Jimmy quirked a brow and then narrowed his eyes dangerously.

"Uh…should I just punch you…or…?" he wondered.

Ben creased his brow, startled at the response. He looked at the bottle in his hand, felt the book still held in his other hand, peeked back to a very flustered Jimmy, and then realization dawned on him and he paled, gaping.

"What? No, this…this isn't…it's for your shoulder, dumbass," Ben stammered. He shook away the embarrassment, Jimmy's features relaxing as he explained, "It's still bothering you from the hell you put it through last month, right? So I asked Dr. Glass for something to help with sore muscles, because I figured you never would, and she gave me this."

"Oh," Jimmy murmured. His cheeks reddening, as he repeated quietly, sheepishly, "Oh…"

"Yeah. Oh," Ben jeered, "You know there's a saying about people in glass houses…"

"Fine, I'm a pervert," Jimmy returned sharply, "I'm a teenage boy and sex constantly crosses my mind. Are you happy now?"

"No, but you know what would make me happy?" Ben said suggestively.

"_Fine_, we'll try your stupid finger thing," Jimmy grumbled.

"Actually, I was talking about you taking your shirt off so I could put some of this on your shoulder, but…I'll take that too," Ben replied in stun, laughing despite himself.

Jimmy buried his face in his hand, groaning, "You're such an asshole."

"Lose the shirt, babe," Ben cheekily replied.

Jimmy shook his head, peeling his shirt off and tossing it aside as he muttered, "I really need to start bringing my gun when I come see you…"

They plopped on the floor again, Ben seated behind Jimmy and Ben squirted some of the ointment in the palm of his hand. It was a creamy white color and smelled pungently of menthol. He dipped his fingers into the stuff and dabbed it onto Jimmy's right shoulder.

"See, you think I don't want you out there with me, but here I am going out of my way to help you feel better so that you can be out there with me sooner," Ben mentioned offhandedly as he smeared the cream over Jimmy's shoulder blade. The bone protruded out beneath Jimmy's skin rather significantly.

Most of Jimmy's bones were more readily apparent then Ben recalled them ever being before. Everyone in the 2nd Mass was malnourished, it was a consequence of the war and lack of steady resources, food needed to be rationed and there were a lot of mouths to feed, but Jimmy looked far gaunter than he'd been a month ago.

Ben wrinkled his brow, and asked, "Have you lost weight?"

"Probably. I don't eat that much," Jimmy answered, shrugging. He leaned forward on his knee, balancing his chin in his hand.

"You need to take better care of yourself," Ben murmured, "Why don't you eat more?"

"Not hungry," Jimmy answered, "I'm fine, Ben. Could you skip nagging me like you're my mother or my wife or something…?"

"Okay, okay, I'll leave the nagging to you, dear," Ben relented. He could just see Jimmy rolling his eyes at that statement.

Ben daubed a bit more of the ointment on Jimmy's shoulder and then began massaging the area, digging his fingers into the skin, pinching and kneading. Jimmy grunted approval, his muscles almost melting at the touch, his head lolling forward.

"So…what did Dr. Glass say when you asked her for something to rub on me?" Jimmy jokingly asked. Ben flushed a bit, smirking and shaking his head at the question and the thought of asking something so insinuative of the doctor.

"I didn't exactly word it like that," Ben said, "I just asked her for ointment, I didn't say why I needed it."

"Good. I don't need her harassing me about my shoulder too," Jimmy returned.

Ben snorted softly. It figured Jimmy was concerned about it getting out he still had lingering pains.

"You're pretty good at this," Jimmy quietly remarked.

Ben smiled vaguely, smoothing his palm over Jimmy's skin, and adding more ointment to the area.

"I wanted to be a doctor. When I was a kid," he confessed, "Like a brain surgeon or diagnostician, something like that."

"Sounds about right," Jimmy determined, candidly he pronounced, "You would've made a good doctor."

"You think? Why?"

"I don't know. You're smart and you…care about people. And you…you've got that way-too-understanding personality…kind of like Dr. Glass. You're a lot like Dr. Glass, actually. And, you know, you put up with me, so I figure you've got the patience of a saint. Which seems important for a doctor," Jimmy determined, and then distantly he noted, "You're good at taking care of people."

Ben leaned forward, pressed a kiss to Jimmy's left shoulder as he continued massaging the right.

"Yeah…well…when I got older I gave it up, decided I wanted to be like a…uh…like a history professor like my dad or something," Ben murmured against Jimmy's skin.

Jimmy nodded, but didn't say anything. Ben straightened, smeared more of the ointment along the side of Jimmy's arm, working his fingers into the muscle there.

"What about you? What did you want to be?" Ben asked, "When you were a kid."

"Nothing," Jimmy muttered. Ben's brow rose at that.

"Come on, everyone wanted to be something when they were a kid. And I just told you what I wanted to be…"

"Fine, fine, fine…shut up. I guess...when I was really little, I mean like…five, six…I wanted to be a baseball player. A pitcher," Jimmy answered, and then sighed and admitted stiffly, "My dad had been a pitcher on his college team. And I guess he was my hero then or something so..."

"What happened?" Ben wondered.

Jimmy shrugged and lazily explained, "I wasn't good enough. They made me short-stop a couple times, third base, and catcher…so my dad would have me practice outside every day. When he'd get home we'd be outside until it got dark. One night I didn't want to do it anymore. I guess I realized…I don't know…that it didn't matter; I would never be good enough. I complained after like an hour that my arm hurt and I wanted to go inside and he got mad and…" Again, Jimmy shrugged, his breath came out shaky, "He grabbed me and started yelling about being lazy and not really going for what I wanted and…and, well, I guess he got a little too…um…enthusiastic in his anger and accidentally dislocated my shoulder. I started crying, my mom came out and started yelling at him…"

Ben paused his hand on Jimmy's shoulder, delicately tracing circles with his thumb across the skin. Jimmy fell silent a moment, sniffed loudly, and rubbed at his face.

"When I got older my dad wasn't my hero anymore and I stopped wanting to be anything like him. That's all," Jimmy concluded wistfully.

Ben ground the rest of the ointment onto Jimmy's shoulder, saying, "Engineer."

"What?"

"I think you would've been an engineer, probably mechanical or computer," Ben said decisively, "You know, if the war never happened."

Quietly, Jimmy wondered, "Why is that?"

"I don't know. I hear you talking to Dai sometimes. The conversations you guys have go _way_ over my head, but I kind of get from it that you understand what he's saying and something about it makes me think engineer," Ben explained.

"So…you just listen in on my conversations around camp all the time or…?"

"What? No, I don't," Ben quickly replied, flustering, "I promise I don't."

"Why did you decide you didn't want to be a doctor?" Jimmy asked, suddenly flipping the subject back to Ben. Finished with the ointment, Ben reached forward, wrapping his arms around Jimmy's shoulders and leaning against him.

"I don't know. I just did," Ben answered quietly. He sighed, "Well, the whole reason I wanted to be a doctor in the first place was because…well, when I was a kid I was sick a lot. I had the respiratory problems so I'd have asthma attacks and I'd get pneumonia every winter. I was allergic to just about everything that grew – if I wanted to breath in spring and summer I had to suffer being doped up on antihistamines all season - cats, dogs, birds, hell, just about anything with fur or feathers, bee stings, ant bites, dust. My mom…" he hesitated a moment, "She was always worrying about me. I felt like, you know, if she could've gotten me a plastic bubble to live in she would've.

"I couldn't go to gym class with the other kids; I had a doctor's note a mile long. The coaches didn't want to go near me for fear of a lawsuit. So I got shafted to the library every day with this kid we called Crumb, it was his last name, he wore a back brace, and this girl, Marty, her parents got her out of gym because she didn't want to change with the other girls, they were lawyers I guess. I would argue with my mom that I could handle gym and that I wanted to play sports at school and my mom would tell me I couldn't and my dad was always on her side. He'd take me to practice lacrosse with Hal sometimes at the park, and I did alright and I always thought he might switch sides, help me out with mom, but he'd lie to her about where we'd been instead.

"But our family's pediatrician, Dr. Kim, always stuck up for me. She tried convincing my mom to ease up, that I wasn't an invalid, that I could live life like a normal kid. She told my mom that playing a low impact sport like wrestling or baseball or swimming might be good for my asthma and that it was healthier for a growing kid like me to be active. I guess, in that way, Dr. Kim was, sort of, my hero. I used to read up on a bunch of medical stuff before my doctor's appointments and then ask her a bunch of questions when I got there so I could impress her. She'd quiz me on things too, it was great," Ben sighed and buried his face in the crook of Jimmy's neck.

"What happened? What did she do to stop being your hero?" Jimmy prompted.

"Nothing happened. Dr. Kim was always awesome," Ben replied, taken aback by the question, "My interests just changed as I got older. Part of me still wanted to be a doctor but I learned that you needed to use a lot of math in it and I hate math, and I started really getting into history anyway. I mean, mostly because of my dad. It gave us a way to connect. You know, he and Hal had lacrosse, and I couldn't play lacrosse, so I took history. He'd spend the day at the park with Hal and then spend all night talking to me in our family's study."

Jimmy pulled back, turned to look at Ben in puzzlement. By his expression, he looked like he was trying to work out a difficult problem. Ben chuckled lightly, surprised by the other boy's reaction.

"People don't always have to let you down, you know," Ben said.

"No," Jimmy murmured, "I guess not."

He pulled away from Ben and stood, stretching then plucking his t-shirt off the ground and pulling it up over his arms. Ben watched quietly a moment before following suit.

"Weird," Ben noted, and Jimmy quirked a brow at him, "This might be the first time in a while that we've gotten dressed without…you know…fooling around."

"Is that a good thing…?" Jimmy wondered. He sounded as though he might be offended.

"No. It's a complaint," Ben returned smartly, "All the trouble I went to with the ointment to get you out of your shirt and the heartfelt confession and we're not even going to go to second base?"

Jimmy stepped forward, his expression weary. He hastily pecked Ben on the lips.

"We have to talk about what happened at the shopping complex," he said.

Ben donned a serious expression, nodded shortly and braced himself. It wasn't like Jimmy to readily initiate a conversation about himself and his emotions but Ben was ready to be whatever support Jimmy might need.

"What you said, about why you went against the plan," Jimmy continued. Ben grimaced. That was certainly not the conversation he had prepared himself for. He knew he needed to choose his next words carefully or they might cascade back into another fight and, Ben really didn't want that, things were almost copacetic between them again.

"Yeah. That," Ben mumbled, "It's not that I don't think you can handle yourself, because I do…"

"I don't care about that right now. Is it going to be a problem?" Jimmy countered, "Or do we need to tell Weaver…?"

"No," Ben hastily answered, realization at Jimmy's concern striking him hard. If Ben's emotions were compromised, he and Jimmy would not be able to work on the battlefield together anymore. There were few people Ben trusted to watch his back, there were fewer he trusted to watch Jimmy's. He sighed, ran a hand across his face and over the back of his head, and walked away a few paces, "We don't need to tell Weaver anything. I was only…it was just that…it was our first real high-risk battle since the warehouse…I heard the gunshots and…" He shook his head, turned to fix Jimmy with a hard look, "It won't happen again."

"It better not," Jimmy softly responded, putting his hands in his pockets and saying, "But you know, I guess I know what you mean. That's kind of where I'm at when you're out hunting on your own."

"Okay, I get it," Ben muttered, disgruntled, "You hate the hunting..."

"No. I mean, yes, I do. I really do. But if it's what you need to do. If it's what's helping with the losing control and the excess energy," Jimmy interjected, reluctantly deciding, "I'll let it go. For now."

Ben perked a brow, cautiously wondering, "What did you do?"

"What? Nothing. I didn't do anything. I can't just let you off the hook without there being a catch?" Jimmy said.

Ben dropped his brow and narrowed his eyes on the other boy, folding his arms over his chest.

Jimmy sighed, slumped, and haggardly explained, "Weaver wants me to keep working with the unharnessed kids."

"What? Even after what happened at the complex?" Ben groaned, and easily surmised, "And you agreed to it."

"That was before I ran into Roman in the hall," Jimmy hastily clarified, "He's got nothing to do with the decision."

"I wasn't going to say that he did."

"Listen, I was thinking…well, I was…kind of…sort of…thinking that you could help with training them," Jimmy meekly suggested, dropping his gaze and peeking up at Ben through loose strands of hair falling across his face.

"Not your best thought," Ben remarked.

"I also might've told Weaver you and Roman could make a good team," Jimmy sheepishly admitted.

Ben smacked a hand to his face, growling low in the back of his throat.

"Why the hell would you say something like that?" Ben demanded.

"Because it's true," Jimmy returned sharply, fidgeting with his pockets and bouncing a couple times on the balls of his feet, before restlessly pacing away and back a few steps, "I think…with the right training, maybe he could keep up with you on the battlefield and…and that…if you guys learned to get along…"

"I'm not the one that has to learn anything. He's the asshole," Ben muttered.

Jimmy sighed and tentatively asked, "What did he mean? What he said outside of camp…what did he mean by that?"

Ben furrowed his brow and turned away from Jimmy. Roman's words weren't that hard to interpret. The older boy blamed Ben for his and the other three being harnessed and that could only mean that when harnessed Ben played a role in their capture. Ben knew that Jimmy was smart enough to figure that out on his own, so Jimmy wasn't looking for an explanation, he was looking for some confirmation that it was true or false.

"I don't know," Ben answered.

There was a pause. Ben drew in his breath, held it a moment, waiting for the other boy's response. Would he believe Ben or would he think Ben was lying again?

"Are you sure you don't…?" Jimmy pressed. Ben blew the air hotly from his lungs. He lied about one thing and he would pay for it the rest of their relationship it seemed.

"I don't," Ben insisted, "When they were taken and harnessed, I already had a harness on. I have no clue what he was talking about."

"About when you were harnessed…" Jimmy started.

"I don't want to talk about it," Ben quickly and decisively cut in.

"Ben," Jimmy began protest.

"As the most secretive person in camp, I don't think you have any room to argue, so you might as well quit while you're ahead," Ben said sternly.

Jimmy shook his head, wandered away covering a yawn. Ben examined the other boy a moment. Jimmy had lost weight. His eyes had obvious bags under them, and he looked paler than normal. He'd blacked out on an op, and he'd made mention that it had happened before. Ben frowned, thought of those rare moments they'd had with one another. Jimmy had been resting progressively longer after they were intimate, and while Ben had thought it was because Jimmy was feeling more and more comfortable sleeping with Ben beside him, now Ben wondered if there might be another reason.

"…protect me," Jimmy mumbled distractedly and Ben perked a brow at that.

"What?"

"Nothing. Just thinking about something you said," Jimmy replied, turning round with a wry smile, "That you wanted to protect me."

"Yes, I do," Ben readily confirmed.

"I want to protect you too," Jimmy admitted. He lowered his eyes and smirked, his expression melancholy, "But I can't. I'm not strong enough, fast enough. I don't see like you, I don't hear like you. I never told you about in the warehouse…"

Ben straightened; his full attention on Jimmy. They _never_ talked about what happened in the warehouse or those days after when Jimmy was alone and lost. For the most part, it was a taboo topic. All Ben knew was that, whatever went down, it made Jimmy want to be with him, and in the end, that's all that mattered.

"It was you that made me keep moving," Jimmy said quietly. He shrugged and went on, "I thought I was going to die. I should've died. And I was okay with it…dying…because it was for you, to protect you. This, training them," he took a deep breath and met Ben's slightly confused gaze with one shimmering and full of apprehension, "It's my way of dying for you. I'm training my replacements, Ben. Everything I teach them is another bullet in my chest, and when I'm done, I'm done. I'll have killed myself, and any opportunity I could have had from here to the end of the war to earn a place as a respected fighter sent on important missions, hitting those six-legged bastards where it actually hurts."

"Jimmy…" Ben breathed, struck utterly speechless.

"My plan isn't to sideline you, Ben, it's to sideline myself," Jimmy concluded.

"That's not going to happen. You're my partner, Jimmy, I won't work with them. Even when they're trained, I'll tell Weaver I won't," Ben insisted.

"Yes, you will work with them. Don't let my sacrifice be in vain," Jimmy returned wistfully, "Because we need to win this war. And I am holding you back," He sniffled, looked away and swiped at a stray tear tumbling down his cheek, "We saw that yesterday at the grocery store. Only way you'll be able to fight to your fullest capabilities is if you're fighting with others that can keep up, instead of having to always lag behind to protect me."

Ben crossed the tent to Jimmy. He slipped his hand round Jimmy's neck, looked at the other boy with a softened expression. Then he pulled Jimmy forward into a hard and passionate kiss.

"Help me train them," Jimmy pleaded when they broke apart.

"I'm not going to help you kill yourself," Ben whispered reply, and then murmured, "But I guess I can't stop you either."

"Nope," Jimmy agreed.

Ben sighed, kissing Jimmy again. It wasn't the far future, but it was the future, if Jimmy's plan worked. Soon they wouldn't be fighting beside one another. The thought of it sapped the air from Ben's lungs, and caused his heart to stutter.

Without knowing why, Ben offered, "Later today, come hunting with me."

Jimmy furrowed his brow in question. Ben shrugged.

"You've been throwing a fit all this time about me hunting alone and now I'm asking you to join me and you're just going to leave me hanging?" Ben teased.

"No. I'm…yeah. Yeah, I'll go with you," Jimmy replied, stammering his way out of shock. He wrapped his arms around Ben's waist and kissed Ben in return, grinning, "Of course I'll go with you."

"But right now you're going to sleep," Ben said, smiling at Jimmy's flummoxed expression, "You look like you're about to pass out."

"I'm fine," Jimmy predictably protested.

"Fine? Did you even sleep last night?" Ben demanded.

"Like an hour, yeah," Jimmy answered.

"I'm not taking you hunting in this condition. You need to rest if you want to come. How are you going to snipe Skitters off my trail when you can't even see straight? You can use my sleeping bag."

"And what are you going to do?" Jimmy asked, suddenly suspicious.

Ben grinned boyishly, "I'm not going to molest you in your sleep if that's what you think. It's more fun to molest you when you're awake. You molest back when you're awake."

Jimmy shook his head, rolling his eyes though he was shaking with light laughter.

"I might just stare at you while you sleep. I know how much you love that," Ben continued.

Jimmy raised a brow at him and they kissed again.

"Seriously, though, I think I might go find Matt, see if he wants to do something," Ben finally said, donning a serious tone as he expanded on the decision, "Hal and me took him to see the movie last night, but I took off like ten minutes in because I heard you leaving Weaver's."

"That'd probably be good," Jimmy determined, stretching and wandering to the sleeping bag. He straightened it out a bit with a nudge from his boot toe, "Matt seemed down last night. I'd wondered why but…you know…I was a little too distracted to check up on him and he was with Hal and Lourdes, so…you know…"

Jimmy plopped on top of the sleeping bag, falling back on it. Ben walked over and sat on the ground beside Jimmy and Jimmy offered a quizzical look.

"I'll hang out until you fall asleep," Ben said.

"I won't go to sleep if you're sitting over me like that," Jimmy argued, though he was already starting to sound drowsy. Ben smirked. He leaned forward and dropped a kiss to Jimmy's mouth.

"Yes, you will," Ben returned plaintively. He smiled with a distant look in his eyes. He gently brushed the hair from Jimmy's face and stroked Jimmy's forehead absently with his thumb, traced the other boy's features. Quietly he remarked, "You always do."

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A/N: Confession time, this and the previous chapter were originally one chapter when I wrote them...but because they pushed about...9K words, I had to cut them in half...snip, snip. I think it's because Jimmy and Ben had been fighting so much lately, they needed the huge chunk of story-space dedicated to them being lovey-dovey-ish to each other.

Um...also, I'm hoping that this fluffy-sweet cotton candy chapter will distract you all from the news I bear. It opens with a story, I'm trying to kill myself apparently. Three four hundred level anthropology classes, an internship, and Japanese 2. Um...two of my classes are going to want 15-20 page papers featuring original thoughts with roughly 15-25 references, and those are just the final papers, and I'll be doing roughly two hundred pages of reading a week. I'm a slow reader if you're reading. On top of that, I also work 23 hours a week. Do the math. It means my time for writing Fire Light chapters is down to roughly the hour before I dash off to classes or perhaps the hour before I go to bed. Read as: maybe four hundred words a day, if I'm lucky. What all of this means is...I have to knock down updates to once a week.

Updates for now will be on Sundays only - because Sundays are the most convenient day for me to update, which means there will be a new update this Sunday, but no more on Thursdays.

I'm sorry! I'm too tired to beg for forgiveness though, so I'll just wrap this up with: Please let me know what you thought of the chapter!

Reviewers: (Real quick) typhoonboom08, I'm glad my stories can still surprise! Honestly, this is how I most like writing them, happy together with no expectations. But, yeah, always feel sorry for fictional characters once I get my hands on them...Haley, hehehe, yes, cliffhangers are fun, aren't they? I hope this chapter was worth the wait. JDMlvr1, he did just save their relationship! And remember that book you were lamenting them not bringing, there it is. I never said Ben put it back on the shelf, did I? Sorry that the news wasn't better...Greg, I wasn't really subtle about it, was I? But, hey, I'm from one of the most famous cities on Earth, I can be a bit proud, I guess. Though I guess now I don't feel weird having figured out where you're located out of. SassySavanna190, I wondered where you were, when your review didn't pop up first I started to worry. Hehe, I'm glad all you did was forget...I think. Anyhow, the two reviews in one works. Yes, Roman does play dirty, and that was an emotionally charged chapter! And there's plenty more where that came from not too long down the line. Hm...but interesting speculations on what's going on with Ben in chapter 30. Are the aliens regaining control, I wonder? Wait, I know what's going on, I'm not wondering. Hah! Drama queens are awesome, though, nothing to get over. And yes, you did call it. Answer to Question: So...okay, so Dylan and Connor are the actors who portray Ben and Jimmy, right? Took me a minute...um...honestly, I think being working actors in Hollywood, neither of them really have the time to look up fan material based on characters they play. I'm glad they don't though, I don't think they'd appreciate my work nearly as much as all of you awesome people do! P.S. No apologies necessary, I do understand what you say. :) Leave grammar apologies to me. WhisperMaw, ah...you are way to awesome. Have I told you lately that I love you. I laughed so hard when I read your reviews...I totally forgot that I wrote that author note. I guess last chapter was the long awaited "Jimmy nursing Ben scene", and look...hahahahaha...he _did_ call him an idiot! Also, he didn't splash water in Ben's face, but he was none too graceful with that alcohol...though he was a little more tender than I predicted, I think it's because Ben's having that affect on him, he did still flick Ben's ear and give him a hard time about the duffle...hahahahahaha. Oh, I love it, thank you for that.

Alright you guys, I have to run because...I have a long day...long _days_ ahead of me. God, I need coffee. I'm off to find coffee.

I'll see you all on Sunday!


	32. Chapter 32

A/N: Thank you to the reviewers, you guys are awesome and I'm gracious of all your understanding on the change in updates. I know, I know, I had promised at one point an attempt at finishing this thing before the month was out but...best laid plans, right?

And, of course, a huge thank you to Greg who is incredibly bummed he won't be getting a new chapter today because of the change in updates...so, yes, pity for Greg everyone! Except he's read a few chapters of my other Falling Skies fanfic, currently being worked on, which he will be getting a new chapter of today to fill that Fire Light void, so...envy him, also.

And...read.

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XXXII.

When Jimmy woke, he was alone in Ben's tent. He checked the watch on his wrist and frowned. He'd slept a few hours, he still wasn't sure how he'd let Ben talk him into sleeping at all. He lifted himself to sitting, rubbed the grog from his eyes. He had a clouded feeling swarming his head, as though he were walking through a dream. He stretched, cracked the kinks from his bones, and laid back on the sleeping bag again, staring through foggy eyes up at the tent roof overhead. The entire place smelled of Ben, citrus and pine blanketed Jimmy entirely. It wasn't a bad thing to wake up to, not bad at all.

Jimmy smiled distantly. For the first time in days, he felt as though he and Ben were back on steady ground. He now knew why Ben needed to go hunting, Ben now knew why he was training the unharnessed kids, and later they would go out together and kill some Skitters. It might be a good day.

Ben's confession rushed to mind and Jimmy closed his eyes, a grayness swarming through him. Ben had said he'd been losing control, and he didn't know if the aliens were still controlling him. With a sickness, Jimmy recalled those moments when he glimpsed the depth of Ben's rage, those feelings that overwhelmed Jimmy in those moments, old scars being struck open anew. He had been quick to say Ben was wrong, the aliens weren't in control, but he didn't know if he was right and what was worse, he didn't know if he wanted to be right. If the aliens weren't controlling Ben in those moments, then what did that leave as explanation for Ben's behavior? Only Ben.

Jimmy pulled himself up to his feet. He made an effort to straighten the sleeping bag, not that Ben would notice or care. He restacked the books he'd knocked over earlier – made a face at _the_ book before hiding it on the bottom of the stack again, cleaned up Ben's first aid kit that Ben apparently left lying open with its insides spilled out, and then he tucked the kit neatly back where it had come from inside Ben's duffle bag.

Oddly satisfied that the tent was tidied, Jimmy debated on what to do next. He could go find Ben, but then again, Ben had mentioned wanting to search out Matt to spend time with the youngest Mason, and Jimmy didn't really want to interfere with the brothers' bonding time. He already took up more than enough of Ben's time as it was. Not to mention, Jimmy wasn't exactly in a huge hurry to see Ben again, not after everything that had come out that morning. Telling a guy you were prepared to take a bullet for him tended to leave behind an awkward aftertaste in the mouth.

Then there was the shopping complex incident.

Jimmy slipped from the tent, careful of any nosy onlookers. Douglas's words rang scathing in his ears: _…half the 2__nd__ Mass knows what's going on between you two…_

It was bad enough so many people knew about Jimmy and Ben, the last thing Jimmy wanted was for people to see him leaving Ben's tent and incite rumors spreading like wildfire through the 2nd Mass. He shuddered to think what rumors were already going around about them. Depending on what those rumors were saying, it was no wonder Hal was always fussing so much about where Ben was and what he was doing there.

Some of the younger kids had a game of soccer going in the nearby field. Jimmy paused a moment to watch them play. It had been awhile since he'd joined in on recreational activities around camp. It had been awhile since he'd acted anything like a kid period. Not since Weaver had finally put him in fighter rotations. Before the warehouse, there had been protests by fighters and civilians alike about someone as young as Jimmy fighting the war. Having sixteen year olds on the battlefield was bad enough, but a thirteen year old? At what point did they draw the line? At what point did they attempt to preserve some semblance of innocence in the children who'd otherwise and so unceremoniously had childhood ripped out from under them? But then Jimmy pushed that button and people stopped questioning if he should be on the battlefield or not.

Across the camp, Jimmy spotted Anthony speaking to a few of the older fighters. It looked like Anthony was doling out assignments, as soon as he was finished telling those fighters whatever it was he was telling them, they left him. Anthony wandered towards the munitions truck, sorting through a few bullet boxes in the back, and Jimmy tentatively approached him.

"Hey, Jimmy, how's it going?" Anthony greeted, when he noticed the younger boy.

"Okay, I guess," Jimmy answered, leaning nonchalant against the truck, "Did you have anything that needed to be done? I got nothing to do and I'm…really bored."

Anthony glanced at Jimmy askance, studying him a moment. Jimmy squirmed under the scrutinizing stare, shoving his hands in his pockets and tipping his head to the side. He tried to look like an appealing subordinate. Anthony went back to the munitions.

"I heard about what happened on your run yesterday," he commented.

Jimmy fell back a step, air knocked from his chest. Of course Anthony had heard about that, everyone around camp would've heard the news already. Jimmy screwed the pooch on his first and probably last mission as lead. People had probably already forgotten the warehouse and were now demanding to know why someone so foolish, so young, and so irrevocably incapable was leading units into the battlefield.

"I also heard Weaver gave you the day off," Anthony went on, "Take my word for it, Jimmy, and just take the day off. Play ball with the other kids, or a board game in the rec room. Uncle Scott is doing some reading thing…poetry I think it was, with the smaller kids. They might write some later, it sounds fun. You should check it out."

"You have a strange definition of fun," Jimmy muttered.

"Poetry is good for the soul, and some of those kids write some pretty interesting things," Anthony commented.

"Yeah, right," Jimmy scoffed, then challenged smartly, "And what do you know about poetry?"

Anthony paused again; examining Jimmy with a light smirk on his lips then shook his head, returned to the munitions.

"He gives his harness bells a shake, to ask if there is some mistake. The only other sound's the sweep. Of easy wind and downy flake. The woods are lovely, dark, and deep. But I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep, and miles to go before I sleep," Anthony carefully recited, "It's a line from a poem by Robert Frost. I took a classic lit course in college, the teacher covered poetry for almost half the semester. Made us memorize dozens of them; we had to present them at the front of class from memory. Trust me, Jimmy, it's good for the soul."

"Classic lit," Jimmy murmured, flashing momentarily back on his false future with Ben, and then, gaping, and before realizing how rude it would sound, blurted out in surprise, "You went to college? I thought you were a cop before the aliens."

"_Yes,_ I went to college. They didn't just hand a badge to any shmuck off the street," Anthony returned, chuckling lightly. His mirth died after a few shakes of his head and distantly he explained, "I had an Associate's in Criminal Justice. I was working on a Bachelor's, taking night classes before all of this happened. I was gunning for detective, you know?"

"Oh," Jimmy replied, flustering somewhat, sheepish, "Sorry."

"That's the past," Anthony said, returning his attention to the munitions.

Jimmy watched Anthony, finding himself oddly curious about the future Anthony would've had if not for the aliens, maybe even more curious about the young man's past that should've built up to that future. In not wanting to talk about himself, Jimmy had avoided discussions about others, and he realized in that moment that he didn't really know all that much about the fighters he'd fought beside all of those months, those fighters that he idolized and who tolerated his constant tagging along. He knew how annoying it had to be for them, his following them around: Hal, Anthony, Dai, Click before he died, Karen before she was harnessed, and Maggie now. The little brother they never wanted.

"You okay, Jimmy," Anthony questioned, and Jimmy startled out of his ruminations.

"Yeah, fine," Jimmy answered quickly. He shrunk back from Anthony's hard gaze. Anthony was studying him again.

"I feel like I'm supposed to say something encouraging," Anthony sighed. Jimmy perked.

"Why?"

"Out at the shopping complex, I know you shot a man," Anthony said, far more casually than seemed right for the statement.

Jimmy dropped his eyes and tensed his shoulders.

"You were protecting your unit," Anthony continued, "There's nothing wrong with that."

"Yeah, but…wasn't he protecting his unit too?" Jimmy pointed out.

Anthony paused, he was silent a long moment. Jimmy shifted uncomfortably, his own words reverberating through his mind. Sure, in that complex, they were trying to protect themselves and ensure their safety and survival, but wasn't it the same for those other people? Weren't they responding to a sudden attack the only way they knew how, to protect themselves?

"I can't tell you that you did the right thing," Anthony admitted in a low, softened voice, a voice deepened only by his own personal reflection swirling through his unfocused gaze, "It's never the right thing when a life is lost."

"On the force…" Jimmy started, faltered, dropped his eyes and pushed forward, "Did you ever have to…have to kill someone?"

"I discharged my weapon twice in the line of duty," Anthony answered, clearing his throat, "The first time, it was an older woman…figured she was dying I guess, went on a robbing and killing spree, came out of a grocery mart, pointed her Uzi at our barricade we set up outside and…well, I couldn't tell you if it was my bullet killed her that day or if it was someone else's. Other one stays in my mind though…" he creased his brow, slipped one of the bullets out the box, watched distantly as he rolled it in his fingers, "Seventeen year old boy, I never got the whole story, never felt I needed to…didn't really want to, didn't want to give him anymore of a face. All I know is what happened when I came on the scene…little girl was on the ground bleeding out from stab wounds and he went at his mother with a knife. I had the shot and I took it."

Anthony placed the bullet back in the box and closed it again. Jimmy studied him with a newfound respect as a pressure swelled in his chest, he flashed momentarily on an image months back, a boy's dead eyes wide and rolled skyward as though in prayer. Anthony had probably seen far worse, far more disturbing things on the force, and Jimmy could only imagine the horrors. In a way, maybe the invasion was something of a reprieve, fighting the scum of the universe as opposed to the scum of Earth. Or maybe it was more depressing, confirmation for the former cop that humanity had always been doomed from the beginning.

"You know, Jimmy, it turns out I do have something for you to do," Anthony declared.

Jimmy perked, "Sure. What is it?"

"I was about to hit the shooting range," Anthony smirked at Jimmy, reaching a hand forward to ruffle his hair, "You been asking to see those Blaser rifles we picked up awhile back. Come out there with me, I'll give you a rundown."

"Okay," Jimmy grinned, absently smoothing his hair out.

Anthony picked out the munitions they would need, and they picked up the guns from the artillery truck.

"Jimmy," Anthony started, handing off a Blaser R93 to the boy waiting expectantly outside of the truck. He climbed down to stand level with Jimmy, slid a rifle over his own shoulder and clipped a handgun to his belt, "I don't want what happened out there to rattle you, make you question yourself."

"It won't," Jimmy promised.

"Hey look at me," Anthony said firmly, and Jimmy rolled his eyes up from the ground, met the older man's firm gaze, "Whether it's alien or human, if it boils down to you or him, you pull that trigger. If you question it later well…at least you have a later to question it. Understand?"

"I guess," Jimmy murmured. Anthony smiled, clapped a hand round the back of Jimmy's neck and led him to the shooting range.

"I just don't want anything to happen to you, kid," Anthony admitted.

"Thanks," Jimmy replied softly, adding uncertainly, "I don't want anything to happen to you either."

Anthony smirked and they continued their trek to the shooting range in silence. Along the way, Jimmy caught a glimpse of Ben sitting on the fringe of camp with Matt, and briefly they met one another's eyes, a question in Ben's lingering gaze.

As Jimmy moved out of sight, Ben kept a steady gaze on the corner he'd disappeared round, as though still captivated by the hastily fading after image. While it stung that Jimmy hadn't sought Ben out when he woke, at least he was spending time with some of the older fighters again, instead of the other unharnessed kids, Ben decided, returning to his younger brother. Matt had wanted to play soccer earlier when Ben found him, and while they joined the other 2nd Mass children for a while in a game, the pointed glares and dwindling number of children interested in playing had become painstakingly obvious, so Ben had subtly suggested he and Matt leave to do something just the two of them, which Matt had eagerly agreed.

Though Matt had originally asked to go to the shooting range, mildly disturbed, Ben suggested he just show Matt how to clean a handgun instead. Matt talked a lot about wanting to learn to shoot, and Jimmy mentioned it on occasion, but Hal put his foot down soon after their father was 'abducted' on Matt learning to shoot or any active fighting responsibilities, declaring vehemently, "He's not going to be a fighter."

There were a lot of things that Ben could argue with Hal on, but Matt being a fighter certainly wasn't one of them. Neither brother wanted to see the youngest member of their family out on the battlefield, not when considering the members of their family they'd already lost. Of course, there was no compelling argument against teaching Matt to clean a gun, it would give him something to do around camp that might help the troops, something he was always yammering about, wanting to be a bigger help.

"I heard that Jimmy killed someone," Matt commented, he'd evidently caught a glimpse of the other boy too. Ben clenched his jaw, and rolled his eyes at the comment.

"Who told you that?" Ben demanded, trying to keep the anger from his voice, Hal flashing momentarily into mind. It didn't seem a stretch of the imagination that the elder brother had run his mouth off about something like that unwittingly in front of the youngest, the one more likely to run and tell the entire camp.

"I don't know. Everyone is just talking about it," Matt shrugged, gently removing the pieces of the gun the way Ben had shown him.

Ben relaxed somewhat, leaning against the side of the truck bed and glancing back at the community center, at the people moving around the building, lazing about and bustling with some task or other. If everyone already knew without his brothers' help, that was certainly a different story, though the question still remained: who told.

"Is it hard…you think?" Matt wondered. Ben furrowed his brow and peeked at the other boy.

"Killing someone?" he carefully questioned, feeling a bit pained at the idea being in his younger brother's head.

"No. Being killed," Matt said plainly.

Ben winced. That answer definitely didn't make the question any easier.

"Why would you ask something like that?" he quietly wondered.

Matt shrugged again. He reached for the cleaning solution and rag.

"Mom was killed. I just wondered if it was hard," he candidly explained.

Ben scowled. He turned his head to glare in the distance, the houses lining the streets across from their camp.

"I think dying in general is probably hard," he muttered, then forced a light smile and gently told his brother, "But I bet it's harder on the people that don't die, like you and me, that have to remember those people. When it's over, it's over; they don't have to be in pain anymore."

"Probably," Matt replied, frowning, "But it's harder not knowing, like dad."

Ben sighed. This was really one of the major reasons he hated spending any time with his brothers. There were only so many topics to talk about, and nine times out of ten, it was a depressing topic that made Ben feel all at once restless to do something and helpless because he couldn't. At least when he was with Jimmy, parents rarely came into conversation, and when they did, Jimmy's were dead which led to comforting and then, of course, kissing and Jimmy generally steered clear of the subject of Ben's missing father, it was nice in the sense that Ben didn't have to think about it, but a little disconcerting in what that absence of question might mean.

"Yeah. I guess," Ben murmured.

"If he is dead, we'll never know," Matt pointed out, "And if we don't know, we'll never do anything for him…like a funeral or something."

"Could we talk about something else, Matt?" Ben interjected, shifting uncomfortably.

Matt fell silent, working on cleaning the gun. Ben glanced him, his eyes were lowered, his expression soft and melancholy.

"You know, it doesn't have to be hard," Ben started quietly, and Matt peeked up, "Not knowing means we can make things up, and because we'll never know, it could mean the things we come up with might be true."

"I guess," Matt mumbled, "What kind of things could we make up?"

"I don't know," Ben smiled, "Like…maybe dad broke out of whatever holding cell they had him in or whatever and took over the space ship."

"But if he did that, he would come back," Matt noted, frowning slightly.

"Not exactly," Ben returned, grinning, "Not if he doesn't know how to work the space ship. Or if he got sucked into some wormhole during the fighting and thrown out, lost, into the darkest depths of space. Or maybe even both. And right now he's trying to figure out how to work the ship and get back home."

"Is he alone out there? What if he starves…or…or he never figures out how to run the ship?" Matt pressed, straightening, and watching his older brother with interest.

"Well…no…he wouldn't be alone out there. I bet the ship shot him out somewhere that's already like…preprogrammed in its navigational system, right? So it would shoot him out somewhere it's already been," Ben continued, "Somewhere…inhabited. Maybe even inhabited by all sorts of aliens."

"More aliens," Matt groaned, growing anxious for their father on this imagined odyssey.

"Yeah…but not all of the aliens have to be bad," Ben said, "Maybe he could even meet some that he befriended and they help him fly the ship and he's trying to get back home with them."

"Aliens that could help us against the ones here," Matt eagerly chirped.

Ben frowned; he hadn't meant to give his brother a false hope with the fantasy, at least, not that kind of false hope.

"Maybe…" he murmured distantly, gently clapping Matt on the shoulder, clearing his throat and instructing, "Finish up with this gun, and maybe I'll let you clean my rifle next."

"Really?" Matt perked up, grinning broadly.

"If you do a good job with this," Ben told him.

"I will," Matt said eagerly, dropping his eyes and focusing his attentions back on the handgun.

Ben smiled, watching Matt a moment, before letting his mind wander again. He slipped his eyes closed, let a drop of adrenaline kick into his system, let the world swirl around and into him, catching snippets of conversation, the rustling of wind, the call of birds, the chirp of crickets, the distant rumble of thunder, the babbling of water, the sweet sounds of a deserted town.

"…fuck were you thinking?"

Ben slammed back harshly into himself, opening his eyes and scouring the camp for the owner of that voice, Kelsey, but she was nowhere in sight. The words and tone seemed out of character for the mousy girl, he'd never heard something so harsh jab from her tongue, but it wasn't as though he had a real basis of comparison, she rarely spoke. Ben frowned, took a deep breath and focused on finding her voice again but found Roman's instead.

"…big deal. We had to make a decision…"

"That decision didn't happen to have anything to do with a particular pair of blue eyes, did it?" Kelsey seethed.

"No. I already explained that to you. I swear, I'm just screwing around with him," Roman quietly returned, "It's fun and it gets under the razorback's skin..."

"That better be all it is," Kelsey spat back, "I told you, don't get attached to him. We only need him for now but he'll get in our way later. "

Ben let the anger pour through him, his hands curling into fists by his sides as they talked about Jimmy. Ben wanted to feel relief that Roman's only intentions towards Jimmy were to rile up Ben himself, but he couldn't help flashing on the way Roman had held Jimmy, and he didn't like the ominous tone to Kelsey's words: _we only need him for now…_

"Should we really be talking about this here?" Gia's voice spoke up, anxious and quaking, "I mean…what if he hears...Mason…"

"We're too far out," Kelsey told her sharply.

They were outside of camp, Ben realized, trying to pinpoint their location, maybe a little over half-a-mile out. Evidently, they wanted to be out of his range of hearing and probably out of range of anyone else's as well. What were they conspiring about, he wondered.

"But how do you know…?" Gia argued.

"Do you hear him?" Kelsey returned, patronizing, as though speaking to a small and stupid child, "Can you hear _anything_ back at camp?"

"Well…no…but…"

"Then he can't hear us," Kelsey reasoned.

"Maybe…it's just…you saw him in that store today. He moves fast…faster than any of us," Gia persisted, "What if his hearing is better than ours?"

"She might be right. That other one, I always get the impression that he knows things," Douglas's voice entered the conversation.

Ben felt his lip twitch, they were talking about Rick.

"He didn't hear those assholes pull up on us yesterday," Roman pointed out.

"That was only because he was busy with his tongue down someone's throat," Douglas's muttered, there was a scuffling sound and then he whined, "Dammit, Rome, what is your problem?"

"My problem is your mouth," Roman replied sharply.

"In all likelihood, he's busy right now with his tongue down that same someone's throat," Kelsey interrupted, "And you're all wasting time, now shut up about it. I need to know exactly what that idiot told Weaver about what happened on the mission."

"Just that we were surprised by another group, we tried to disarm them, and one of them got shot in the commotion," Gia explained.

"He took the blame…or tried to anyway, for the whole thing," Roman spoke up, "Weaver decided it was on both their shoulders. We got off Scott free."

"And the plan?" Kelsey pressed.

"Still on track," Douglas said.

Plan, Ben furrowed his brow. Matt was trying to get his attention now, and he turned to the younger boy slightly, smiled somewhat and nodded, but his focus was set on the four conspirators.

"Good," Kelsey decided, "Perfect."

"It's starting to look like we might end up out there with both of them," Roman commented.

Both of who, Ben wondered, was Roman talking about himself and Jimmy? Or maybe himself and Rick? Or maybe even someone else or two someone else's altogether? And more importantly, where were they going?

"We'll figure that out when we get to it," Kelsey muttered, "Let's get back to camp."

Ben could hear the four on the move, heading towards the community center once more, and he dropped his focus back to Matt. It seemed his younger brother had finished cleaning and lubricating the handgun and wanted Ben to watch him put it back together. Distantly, he talked Matt through which pieces went where, but his thoughts were a jumbled mess, trying to sort through everything he'd just heard. He knew now, more than anything, Jimmy needed to stay away from those four but he'd already agreed to tolerate Jimmy training them and though he could tell Jimmy what he'd heard, he wasn't entirely sure Jimmy would believe him.

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A/N: Yeah, Kelsey is not at all what she seems. Oh my gosh, what are they planning!? Also, Anthony moment! We see him a bit more in this story than First Patrol, because, well...I love Anthony, I do. Mpho Koaho is awesome! Not just because his name is so kick ass and fun to say. Also, for those of you smart cookies that know Maggie has definitely shot and killed a man (all the way back to the first episodes of season 1), yes, at some point, she will be giving Jimmy a pep talk, sort of...we'll see how that goes.

Um...yup...so, tell me what you think please!

Reviewers: SassySavanna190, lol, the better question is "what would Jimmy do if Ben were really still under the alien's control". I did think Karen being taken by Ben was a bit of a heartwrenching scene, and I do intend to play on it more in later chapters between him and Hal. I do love freaking people out, and teasing with knowing what's going on because I'm a terrible person...ah...but I'm glad you're happy of the chapter and that Jimmy and Ben were able to talk about themselves and...other stuff, more readily. Falling Snow was based a lot on the background stories I built for the boys in this story and First Patrol, but it really was just a fluff piece...most of it has no bearing on things that will be revealed in this story about Ben's background. Haley, hahahahaha, yes, it was a bit fluffy, and very ominous I hope...little bit of foreshadowing in this and upcoming chapters of where I'm taking the story, I think. Things are going to start feeling familiar soon, people. Be afraid, be very afraid, for the poor hapless boys. WhisperMaw, you're so sweet, thank you for your understanding! I will do my best not to disappear into digital oblivion and to finish this story for you guys, I promise! And you can borrow my focus any time, maybe I'll get some sleep...ah, yes, Jimmy's monologue...um...there are two things that you need to remember in order to fully understand what he's saying there: 1) he believes that his path to salvation, redemption for killing his sister, is through killing as many aliens as he can until he's dead, 2) he believes the only reason he's being allowed to fight more on the battlefield and being given increasingly significant roles in the war is because of his willingness to work with Ben. By training others to take his place alongside Ben, he's slowly removing himself off the battlefield and destroying his opportunities to further his path to personal salvation, thereby, ending his (perceived) only reason for continuing to exist, and thus, killing himself. That was his intended meaning anyhow. Does Ben understand the full depth of what he said? No. Ah...sleep...I remember sleep...Cookie97! Ah...it's like a ten-chapter reunion, CrazyXCrossovers is back and now you...the whole gang is almost back together...almost...still missing several people...I fear we always will be missing them. Anyhow, I'm glad you're back and even gladder that you liked the several chapters you had to read to catch up! And further glad to hear that the prolonged periods between updates will give you a chance to stop in more often! JDMlvr1, aww, it's okay. I thought you might've been mad at me for dropping updates to once a week, hehe. Yes, well, I wouldn't have mention the book without planning on one of the boys bringing it home, that would just be a silly waste of story space. Needed the boys to progress their in-bed relationship somehow...

In other news, I did finish writing chapter 43 yesterday and I'm very near the chapter that introduces Tom into the story, so the prognosis looks good for Fire Light!

Anyway, so...there it is...I uh...I'll see you guys in a week then.


	33. Chapter 33

AN: Thank you to the reviewers! You guys are awesome.

And thank you to Greg for the beta-ing and guilt-trips.

Read!

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XXXIII.

At lunch, Ben had told Jimmy they'd head out around ten for their hunt and to meet him in the parking lot near the First Night, but when Jimmy wandered back there, Ben was nowhere in sight. He paced the area several times, checked his watch, and sighed. Ben was late. Jimmy scowled. Or not coming. He readjusted his rifle, slung over his shoulder, and leaned against the back of the giant black bus. A crunch of footfalls nearby startled him to attention.

"What the hell took you…?" Jimmy started in anger, but faltered when he saw who exactly was hovering at the edge of the bus.

Roman smirked, considering Jimmy as he absently traced a thumb under his bottom lip.

"I thought I saw you come back here," Roman said, "What are you doing, brat?"

"Nothing," Jimmy immediately answered.

"If you're waiting for your razorback, it's going to be awhile," Roman commented, crossing the lot to one of the cars several yards away and sliding up onto its hood, calling, "I saw him head out of camp earlier; probably going to meet his Skitter friends."

"He left," Jimmy gaped, trying desperately to ignore the pain of that revelation swarming through his chest.

"Yeah, he wasn't supposed to wait for you, was he?" Roman teased.

Jimmy made a face, turned his head away, and folded his arms across his chest. He didn't want to give Roman anything but he couldn't hide his disappointment.

"Well, I'm sure he didn't do that on purpose," Roman drawled sarcastically, "Maybe he just forgot or got restless and decided to leave early. Or maybe he just changed his mind."

"You lying?" Jimmy prodded, turning to narrow his eyes back on the other boy, "He still in camp somewhere, held up by his brother or someone else, and you're just trying to fuck with my head?"

"Would I lie to you? That's his MO, not mine," Roman replied cheekily, leaning back on the hood and grinning lopsided at Jimmy, "This really bothers you. That he just took off without you. So when he comes back, what do you plan on doing about it? Are you…not going to let him kiss you for at least one whole day?"

"Fuck you," Jimmy muttered.

"Or are you not even going to ask him about it?" Roman persisted.

Jimmy shook his head, moving to trudge back into camp, trembling with his own rage and feelings of betrayal. He wasn't entirely sure what he would do when he saw Ben. He wasn't sure if he should do anything. He'd agreed to let Ben hunt alone, it was helping with the growing Skitter abilities, and it had been Ben's idea that Jimmy come that night, he was allowed to change his mind, Jimmy supposed, but it would've been fucking nice if he'd said something about it.

Unless he couldn't.

A coldness grew in Jimmy suddenly, as he thought back to his conversation with Ben in the tent that morning, and Ben's admission of not being able to recall the night before. What if it had happened again? What if he hadn't left Jimmy behind because he'd changed his mind, what if he'd left Jimmy behind because he'd lost control of his mind?

"Hey, whoa, hey, brat, wait, wait," Roman called in a low voice, and Jimmy staggered to a stop, glancing curiously back at the older boy, "What are you going to do, huh? Go back to camp and sulk? Come over here, come sit with me. I want to talk to you…about the mission."

"Which mission?" Jimmy challenged.

"The one Weaver might send us on, if you get us four trained well enough," Roman explained.

Jimmy scowled, reluctantly walking over towards the car Roman lounged on, but he didn't sit, choosing instead to stand aside with his arms folded over his chest, his expression practiced into blank apathy.

"What about it?" he asked.

"You think it's really going to happen?" Roman wondered, sitting with his knee pulled up, leaning his arm across it.

"I don't know," Jimmy answered earnestly, shrugging.

"Right; why would you know?" Roman mumbled, glancing at Jimmy, his features light but unreadable, "But if it does, your razorback going is a sure thing?"

"I guess," Jimmy said, "They wouldn't send you four alone on your first serious mission like that, and the plan for training all of you is to be his backup anyhow. He would be point. You'd have to take orders from him," he snorted softly, "So it probably won't happen."

"Maybe not," Roman said quietly, his eyes gazing out into the darkness.

"That it?" Jimmy wondered, eager to get back into camp and away from the older boy.

"No, just one more…something I been wanting to ask you for a while now," Roman murmured, turning his eyes up to lock with Jimmy's curious blue, "I was wondering about before…you know, _before-_before…who used to hit you?"

Jimmy stumbled back a step, mouth parting slightly, eyes widening. He choked on his breath.

"What? I don't…I don't know what you're…"

"For me it was my grandma, mostly when I was younger," Roman cut in, smiling coyly, eyes swinging back out into the darkness, "She had a stick about the width of her thumb that she'd take to our bare backs, me and my siblings. More my step-dad when I got older…well, mom's boyfriend, they weren't married, but they'd been together long enough, you know."

"I didn't…" Jimmy stammered, staring in shock at the older boy. He hadn't expected a revelation like that from the overbearing, arrogant leader of the other unharnessed teens. When Jimmy found his voice again, he dropped his eyes and quietly admitted, "Sometimes my dad would…but it wasn't like that…I'd say things, I'd try and piss him off and…"

"Oh yeah, yeah right," Roman murmured, smiling grimly, "Me? For my grandma, I was clumsy. Always dropping things or making messes. Just like my mom, she always used to say. My step-dad, though…" he smirked, shook his head as though trying to shake away the memory, "He beat my mom. He did it for years, and then my older brother got old enough and stood up to him. So he beat my older brother, and he did that until my older brother got big enough to hit back and to leave. So then he started beating me. At first it'd be the big things, came home with a bad grade, or was playing too loud, but then it got to be every little thing, didn't clean the dishes fast enough, forgot to put away my coat…until I started to realize it wasn't anything I did, it was just because I was there…I existed."

"Oh," Jimmy whispered, watching Roman curiously. He wasn't entirely sure why the older boy was telling him all of this, though he felt a strange understanding of the other boy coming over him, and a strange feeling of connection, something unfamiliar but tender, almost pleasant warming through him, "How did you know that…?"

"It's in your eyes…way you hold yourself sometimes, when we were arguing before…I guess it's the – uh – the anticipation," Roman explained, he straightened and folded his legs, fidgeted a moment as though suddenly nervous after confessing so much, "You know, the thing that always got me was my mom. My old man used to beat her too, and like I said, her mom…my grandma," Roman continued, his eyes darkening with an old sorrow as he spoke, "They talk about it being a cycle, you know, and I used to think…that's crap, that's not going to happen to me. I'm going to stop it, no one's going to do that to me and I'm not going to do that to anyone. Several months before the invasion, I started this relationship…someone a little older than me, treated me good, told me all these things about how special I was and everything, wanted to teach me everything in bed too, you know…I thought I was in love."

Jimmy shifted uncomfortably, remained silent, uncertain of where Roman was going with this new twist in the story.

"First time he hit me," Roman whispered and Jimmy's eyes darted up in surprise, the older boy smiling wryly at him in return, "We were fighting, I was late or something stupid, and he just…just hit me, closed fist and all. But it was quick, you know, I almost thought it didn't happen and he said he was sorry and took me out and bought me this big dinner and I forgot about it. Until he hit me again and then again and again…and the thing was, it happened so slow and so sudden, all his 'I'm sorry, baby, it won't happen again' pushing it to the back of my mind until one day, I wake up, and I'm at home looking at my black eye in the mirror, and I told my mom the night before I'd gotten in a fight at school to explain it away, same way she told the ladies at work her black eye came from running into a door…and I just realized right then and there that I'd done it. I'd finished the cycle."

Jimmy tensed, put his hands in his pockets and narrowed his eyes on the older boy into a dangerous glare.

"I'd like to see him try and hit me now though," Roman mumbled, glancing up at Jimmy and explaining, "I couldn't do anything back then. I was smaller than him, weaker, and I was in love, he treated me better than I thought I deserved, so I'd never leave him. Most of the time he could be…so amazing…but then he'd get his temper and I couldn't stop him or fight back. It would almost be like you if Ben…"

"Stop," Jimmy cut in sharply, "Ben doesn't…he would _never_ hurt me."

"I didn't say that he did," Roman smirked at Jimmy, shrugging innocently, "I was just making an analogy…so that you could, maybe, relate."

"Yeah, right," Jimmy whispered, lowering his eyes, "I should go."

He turned and started away, when Roman called suddenly in a strange tone, "Brat."

Jimmy faltered, looked back curiously, his expression light and an almost triumphant smile flashed across Roman's features, as he leaned back on the car to look up at the stars. Jimmy shook his head, confused, heart thundering in his chest and heat flooding his cheeks, for a moment, breathless. He turned, hesitantly began away again.

"Jimmy," Ben's voice called out, and Jimmy paused once more, spinning back around to catch sight of Ben making his way through the dark from around the First Night, rifle slung casually over his shoulder. Ben glared warily at Roman on the car in passing, though the older boy only gave him a short reproving glance, and then Ben stopped in front of Jimmy, asking, "You still coming out tonight?"

"Yeah," Jimmy gaped, looking around and wondering where exactly Ben had come from, "What took you so long? I thought you said ten."

"Oh yeah, right," Ben mumbled sheepishly, "I got caught up with something…um…with Hal. But I'm here now, let's go."

"Oh…okay," Jimmy murmured uncertainly, darting a look at a smug Roman on the car.

Together the boys walked side-by-side out into the night. Ben led the way. He knew better where they could find enemy troops and his hearing allowed him to anticipate where patrol units were wandering around. They traveled in silence and they'd been walking nearly fifteen minutes, when Ben turned them down into a cul-de-sac, the street lined with large Colonial style houses.

Jimmy darted an uncertain look to Ben, enemy troops couldn't possibly have gotten this close to camp, but he readied his rifle, as Ben crept up towards the gate of one of the house's backyards, creaking it open and ushering Jimmy through. Much of the foliage in the backyard was overgrown, it felt almost as though pushing through an untamed jungle, and when Jimmy was fully inside, he faltered, lowering his gun. Ben sidled up next to him wearing a grin.

It was a nice set up. There was a pool, it was green from months without maintenance and had a fuzzy layer over its top. It had a waterfall, which combined with the overgrowth around it, looked like a little cove in paradise. The patio was formed from polished rose colored stones, and there was a weatherworn table in its middle, topped with the lantern from Ben's tent, a couple granola packs and a can of peaches taken from the 2nd Mass food stores, some bottles of water, as well as the bottle of Russian Standard.

"What is this?" Jimmy demanded, peering at Ben with his head cocked to one side.

"Our…uh…first date?" Ben answered meekly, carefully explaining, "It's a surprise. So…you know…um, surprise!"

"You are such a dork," Jimmy groaned, burying his face in his hand, though he wore a broad grin regardless, "Is this why you were late?"

"Yeah," Ben smirked, lightly smacking Jimmy's shoulder, a gesture to follow, then led the way towards the table, "It took me longer to get the vodka by myself than I thought it would and then Hal was harassing me before I left – that wasn't a lie, case you were wondering, so I was already running late when I got here," he motioned to the rest of the backyard and smiled anxiously at Jimmy, "So what do you think?"

"It's cool," Jimmy noted, awkwardly setting his gun against the table and pointing at the pool, "I like the waterfall."

"Oh yeah, I was hoping you would," Ben exclaimed, "I'm surprised it's still running, you'd think the mechanics would get clogged up or something from all the algae. There's a little cave behind it with a bar area."

"Really?" Jimmy said interestedly, taking a few tentative steps towards it.

"Yeah," Ben confirmed, then smiled surreptitiously, and suggested, "What do you say, babe, want to make love in the moonlight behind a veil of water?"

Jimmy blushed conspicuously, even in the low evening light, and growled, "You know, I do have my gun this time."

"Ah…so maybe later then?" Ben teased, tugging a utility knife from his belt and using its can opener on the peaches.

Jimmy went to join Ben, sitting on top of the table and watching him wrestle with the can. He managed to rip it open and held it out to Jimmy, who carefully reached in and pulled out one of the slimy fruit bits, slipping it in his mouth and sucking the saccharine juices off his fingers. He caught Ben staring at him, and flushed at what was pretty evidently written in that other boy's features.

"What?" Jimmy demanded.

"Nothing," Ben replied, attempting to blink away the heat in his eyes. He took a seat next to Jimmy, looking in the can at the peaches a minute and glanced up imploringly at the other boy.

Jimmy darted his eyes from the can to Ben's questioning expression complete with a shy, playful smirk on his lip. Jimmy rolled his eyes and Ben grinned, straightening somewhat and removing his fingerless gloves. He fished out one of the peaches, biting it in half, and using the can to catch any drippings, held it up to Jimmy's mouth. Hesitantly, Jimmy parted his lips and slipped his mouth over the peach and down along Ben's fingers, sucking slightly and using his tongue to lap away the juices, then he clumsily pulled back and turned his bright red face away, unable to meet Ben's eyes. He wiped the sticky saliva from his lips and swallowed down the peach bits mingled with the taste of Ben.

Ben set the can down and reached around Jimmy for the bottle of Vodka, fiddling with it a moment, studying its label. Jimmy watched Ben's hands, and then peeked up into his face. He was watching Jimmy out of the corner of his eyes.

"I can't believe you grabbed the Russian Standard," Jimmy grumbled, shaking his head, "You are going to be three sheets to the wind after one sip. I swear to God, I am not carrying your sorry ass home."

"Really? Because it would be very romantic," Ben teased.

"Nope, not happening."

"I could be like your blushing bride," Ben continued jokingly, "As you carry me across the threshold of my tent."

Jimmy laughed, taking the bottle from Ben, "Shut up."

"I brought water," Ben pointed out; somewhat seriously as Jimmy twisted the top off the bottle, "It should help keep me sober longer. Right? That's how it works?"

Jimmy took a short drink from the bottle, made a face and punched the air from his lungs, shuddered. He held the bottle out to Ben. Ben had been anxiously watching him and tentatively took the bottle. He lifted its lip to his mouth and took a swift drink, instantly pulling away, sputtering and coughing. Jimmy burst out laughing at the display, absently placing a hand on Ben's back and rubbing small circles to help soothe him. Ben struggled to regain his composure, darting slightly embarrassed looks at Jimmy through red-rimmed eyes. He put the bottle back on the table, coughing lightly in his hand, and leaned back to look up at the sky. He studied the stars for several minutes, glanced his watch once, furrowing his brow, and Jimmy took another drink of the vodka, before putting it on the table and reaching for a water and the granola packs.

"It's later in the year than I thought," Ben noted, and Jimmy peeked curiously at him, "It's about…November, I guess…must be near the end."

"How do you know that?" Jimmy wondered, pausing in picking through the granola pieces.

"Some of the constellations out…" Ben mumbled, "Pisces and Sculptor are visible…and there…," he pointed and Jimmy attempted to follow the indicated direction, but it all looked like a mass of blinking white lights in a sea of milky black, "Over there is Phoenix."

Jimmy frowned at the granola in his hand, pushing the bits around, his expression slightly grim. Ben glanced over at him, curious about his abrupt silence.

"Something wrong?"

"No…I just…I'm older than I thought," Jimmy mumbled response, furrowing his brow and picking a raisin up, popping it in his mouth, "My birthday passed, I didn't even realize."

"Really? When was your birthday?" Ben asked, sitting up, interest piqued at that revelation. Maybe it wasn't too late, they could still celebrate. Jimmy knocked the granola from his hand and reached for the vodka again.

"It's stupid, I guess. I knew how much time had passed but I didn't even think about the months and…maybe I didn't want it to have been that long, didn't want to be older…didn't want time to of passed…I mean, why should it pass for me when it's not for others?" Jimmy grumbled, sniffling and saying, "It was August…the sixth. Funny, my birthday came and went and I didn't realize," he smirked darkly up at Ben and earnestly remarked, "And would you believe it was the best birthday I have _ever_ had?"

Ben frowned at that, but said nothing. Jimmy was far more upset than seemed necessary for a forgotten birthday and Ben sensed there was something Jimmy wasn't saying.

"So…that makes you what? How old now…?"

"Fourteen," Jimmy answered easily, taking another rough shot of the vodka, then leaning back to peer up at the stars. Ben smirked at him, and he caught the look, taken aback, "What?"

"Nothing," Ben grinned, turning his attention back to the stars and noting happily, "I'm just older than you."

"And still immature enough to actually care," Jimmy muttered, rolling his eyes, then glaring at him, "Why…when's your birthday?"

"I'll be fifteen in the first week of December," Ben proudly proclaimed, then frowned and complained, "I missed the cutoff for school, and so I was always older than everyone else in my class…it was kind of embarrassing."

"Oh…" Jimmy mumbled, peeling at the label on the vodka bottle, whispering, "Your birthday's the week after Cass's then."

Ben's face fell, his eyes slipped shut and his mouth formed a silent, "Oh."

Of course Jimmy was depressed to learn it was November, nearing the birthdate of the little sister he'd been forced to kill. Ben moved closer to the other boy, sliding an arm around Jimmy's waist and resting his chin on Jimmy's shoulder.

"Want me to show you some constellations?" Ben offered.

"Sure," Jimmy replied.

"Here," Ben patted the table, slipping off it onto the bench, "Lay down, so you aren't straining your neck."

"You sure this isn't just some ploy to get me on my back," Jimmy jeered, half-jokingly.

"I've been reading that book," Ben replied in jest, "If I had ulterior motives, there a lot better positions I would trick you into."

"You asshole," Jimmy sighed, moving their 'dinner' and vodka aside, Ben taking the lamp and setting it beside him on the bench, as Jimmy laid back to get a better view of the sky.

Ben positioned himself, with an arm across Jimmy, their cheeks flush. He took Jimmy's hand in his own, using it to point out the stars.

"That cluster there is Pegasus…and you follow that to…there is Andromeda…and right over there is Phoenix…and, this one is important, you should remember it, that there is the North Star, follow it and it will take you north," Ben explained, smirking as Jimmy rolled his eyes, then tightening his grip on Jimmy's hand, "And that is…um…that's Cassiopeia, the tortured queen."

Ben let Jimmy go, straightening and resting his head atop the arm he had strewn across Jimmy's chest, studying Jimmy's pale, sullen features and wide blue eyes.

"That's cool," Jimmy mused, still studying the sky, "That you can look at those and see them…and…know the time of year…"

"Yeah well…my parents," Ben murmured, smiling distantly, then glancing shyly at Jimmy, "Hey…uh…you know, I have something for you. It could be like a…like a birthday present."

"What…? A present? This isn't like more ointment, is it?" Jimmy groaned, starting to sit up.

"No, just stay there. Lay back down," Ben commanded, "And close your eyes."

Jimmy eyed him suspiciously, "I swear to God, Ben, if this is supposed to be some kind of pervy setup…"

"It's not," Ben promised, "Close your eyes."

"Why? What is it?" Jimmy wondered, suddenly suspicious.

"Nothing. Just a kiss," Ben answered casually, "Close your eyes."

"What? A kiss? Ben," Jimmy groaned, "Why are you being weird?"

"Why are you being difficult? Just close your eyes," Ben insisted.

Jimmy sighed, relaxing back down and, fluttering his lids a moment in annoyance then relented, closing them and sliding his arms up to cross firmly over his chest. Ben stood slightly off the bench to pull the present from his pocket, a tiny thing wrapped in silver foil. He'd worried it would melt but it appeared to have survived the length of time he'd had it hidden there. Carefully, he held the kiss between his finger and thumb, and carefully, slowly, gently set it atop Jimmy's softened lips, and then he leaned his chin in his palm and watched intently for Jimmy's reaction.

Jimmy flinched his brow together momentarily, then sat up suddenly, startled, catching the kiss as it tumbled from his mouth and opening his eyes to see what it was he held in his palm.

"What the hell?" Jimmy sputtered and then perked a brow at Ben laughing beside him, "A kiss," he repeated dumbly, realization dawning on him, then he forced a scowl at the other boy, chastising between chuckles, "You are such a dork. Where did you get this, anyway?"

"In the convenience store," Ben answered easily, grinning proudly at the other boy, "Before I found you back in pharmaceuticals. There was an unopened bag left in the candy aisle. I put it in the truck to take back to all the kids, but I remembered you mentioning something about liking chocolate, so I snagged you one first."

Jimmy stared at the chocolate kiss in his hand, as though puzzled by the kind gesture.

"Thanks," he murmured, sounding dazed.

"Aren't you going to eat it?" Ben pressed and Jimmy quirked a brow at him.

"I have to eat it now?" he replied.

"Well…I…" Ben stammered, shrugging, as he sought something coherent to say.

Jimmy rolled his eyes and began unwrapping the chocolate. He paused a moment, glanced at Ben, still watching him closely, "What about you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You didn't grab one for yourself," Jimmy wondered. Ben shrugged, shook his head 'no'. Jimmy frowned, glaring at the kiss in his hand, "Well, now I feel weird eating it in front of you."

"It's fine. I'm not really a big fan of chocolate," Ben replied casually. Jimmy gawked at him.

"You don't like chocolate?" he demanded, teasing, "Wow, you really aren't human."

Ben flinched, the phrase wasn't meant to be malicious, he knew, but he couldn't help his surprised jolt at the words. He tilted his head back to look at the skies again. He could feel Jimmy's eyes on him, studying him, and in a very strange way it was a comfort.

"Close your eyes," Jimmy barked command.

"What?" Ben responded, looking curiously to the other boy.

"It's my turn. Just do it," Jimmy said harshly.

Ben sighed, and humored Jimmy, closing his eyes and waiting anxiously for whatever that other boy had planned. He could hear Jimmy shuffling around, the rustle of his clothes and the creak of the table as he lifted himself off of it, then the soft pad of his footsteps, and more rustling of clothes as he straddled the bench beside Ben, carefully maneuvering Ben, one hand rest on Ben's far hip, the other at his jaw and neck, gently directing his head to the side. Ben's heart kicked into over gear at the closeness of Jimmy, hands groping in such intimate places, the other boy's warmth spilling over him.

Then Jimmy tentatively placed his mouth against Ben's, and Ben could sense the shyness there, the uncertainty, in that soft, delicate touch, it was puzzling in a way, felt vaguely like a first kiss and not like one of the countless, kisses of practiced ease that they'd given one another throughout the past months. Almost instantly, Jimmy parted their lips, and the taste of chocolate spilled in, the kiss that had been held precariously between Jimmy's teeth now melting in the hot mix of saliva between both boys' mouths.

Jimmy balanced himself against Ben, sinking down to rest most of his weight on the other boy, and Ben moved forward, sweeping his arm around Jimmy's waist and dragging Jimmy as close to his own body as he could manage, delving as deep into that chocolaty sweet taste as he could. Jimmy's hand moved to the back of Ben's neck and Ben loved the way those fingers delicately traced between the rods jutting out of his skin, as though to say he knew they were there and could not care less.

When they finally broke apart, gasping for air and wiping away the lingering milk chocolaty taste from their lips, Ben laughing at the absurdity of the whole affair, Jimmy questioned teasingly, "So…how do you feel about chocolate now?"

"Kind of…like…I should have grabbed more," Ben answered sheepishly, grinning.

Jimmy smirked and started to move away, but Ben grabbed him back, forcing him to sit down on the bench with him. He gestured for Jimmy to turn out from the table, doing the same, and wrapped an arm round Jimmy's shoulders, pulling him close, and tilting his head back to look up the stars.

"My favorite constellation isn't out…but I'll show it to you next April. If you want," Ben whispered.

"What's your favorite constellation?" Jimmy wondered, absently settling himself against Ben.

"Hercules."

"Cass loved that movie, the Disney one," Jimmy murmured, his cheeks were lightly colored and he sounded breathless. Ben pressed a kiss to Jimmy's cheek. He couldn't imagine how hard it was for the other boy to think about his deceased sister, knowing her birthday was near. Ben gave it a few seconds before continuing.

"It's a good movie, but the real legend of Hercules is not so pretty," Ben confessed, gingerly taking Jimmy's hand in his own, twining their fingers, and absently reaching for the vodka to take another drink, the taste was starting to grow on him, either that or he was becoming too drunk to notice its burn. The alcohol was starting to heat his cheeks, and he could sense his words slurring slightly, "He was only half-god because his father, Zeus, had an affair with a mortal woman. Hercules spent most of his life trying to prove himself to the Gods, and Hera, jealous as usual, was always giving him a hard time. She drove him mad once, caused him to murder his own children, and he had to perform ten labors to make up for it."

Jimmy wriggled free somewhat of the other boy and turned to look at Ben, his eyes searching Ben's features. Ben smirked numbly, took another drink from the bottle, it was going down easier. He hadn't realized in mentioning the constellation the parallels that could easily be drawn to his own life, hell, he hadn't realized when he was a child falling in love with the myth of Hercules that one day he would be able to parallel it to his life.

Jimmy relieved Ben of the vodka, taking a drink of it himself before setting it aside. He leaned forward thoughtfully, placing an insistent kiss to Ben's mouth and after a quick flutter of heartbeats, Ben responded in kind. Their mouths merged together perfectly, parting in time, Ben's tongue diving in for an eager taste of the other boy. They maneuvered themselves round on the bench to better access one another, Ben tugged down Jimmy's collar, attaching his mouth to the pale flesh of Jimmy's exposed collar bone, and Jimmy slid his hands up beneath Ben's shirt, wincing as his hands rippled over the bandages there.

"How are you feeling…?" he gasped question, tracing his fingers delicately along the injuries.

Ben smirked against Jimmy's skin, silly question – he didn't even feel the injuries when they were fresh. He nibbled Jimmy's pale, salty-sweet tasting flesh a bit, and then dragged his tongue up along Jimmy's jawline, pushing shaggy brown locks away to find an ear to suckle on. Jimmy whimpered in the back of his throat, slumping against Ben, his fingers edging along the rods in Ben's back up to his shoulders, curling there to drag him close. Ben's fingers were working at undoing Jimmy's trouser buttons, but it was a struggle and they were fumbling to figure out how to get the little round thing through the hole, constantly catching the button up in the fabric. Jimmy pushed Ben back somewhat, resting their foreheads together and searching Ben's eyes, glazed and filled with dazed lust.

"You're drunk," Jimmy noted, with a light laugh, kissing Ben adoringly, "You're such a lightweight."

"You're drunk too," Ben accused, though his words slurred almost incoherently together.

"Only buzzed," Jimmy returned. His head felt as though it was resting on a cloud, and he couldn't stop grinning. He gently moved Ben's fingers, undoing the buttons himself, as he murmured, "I knew you couldn't handle the vodka…" he paused, and darted a nervous glance to Ben, the other boy's eyes transfixed on Jimmy's fingers as they seemed to miraculously slip the buttons out of those little holes in the fabric, "About the thing…in the book…"

"Wasn't going to do it," Ben cried, sounding immediately and somewhat suspiciously on the defense, as he rolled his eyes up to meet Jimmy's. There was a playful smirk in the corner of his lip, and he lolled his head forward suddenly, muffling a giggle with his hand. Jimmy sighed, knocking the hand away to catch Ben's mouth in a deep kiss.

"We could…" Jimmy sheepishly decided, "Try it…right now. If you wanted…"

"Really?" Ben lit up, sliding his hand along and partially below the edge of Jimmy's trouser band, significantly loosened by the undone buttons. Jimmy closed his eyes, catching his breath and squirming at the contact, Ben's light touch tickling the already sensitive skin below his belt.

"Sure," Jimmy sighed contentedly, as Ben buried his face against Jimmy's collar again, working the skin raw with his teeth and tongue, while his hand slipped down to caress Jimmy's developing erection.

Jimmy struggled for breath, digging his fingers into Ben's shoulders, holding the other boy as though the only thing solid in the world. Ben moved to lean Jimmy back down on the bench momentarily, they wouldn't remain like that long, the narrow board made a far too awkward and precarious bed, he used it only to unzip Jimmy, guiding Jimmy back up with his mouth and insistent hands.

"Ben…" Jimmy murmured, his voice so soft that Ben barely heard him, the rest of his words clacking against his teeth, caught on his breath. He desperately tried to sort out the emotions rushing through him, the things fighting in him to be said and their deeper meanings. Those kinds of proclamations, once out there, made solid and tangible, formed hard and fragile in the heart by slipping past tongue and teeth, and couldn't be taken back without shattering one or both of them altogether.

"Hm…?"

"…nothing," Jimmy mumbled, hands working Ben's t-shirt carefully up over the spikes jutting out his back, one hand rippling carelessly down along their cool metallic edge, as the other pulled the fabric up over Ben's shoulders. Ben's hand hesitated a moment, then slipped under Jimmy, palm flattening against his butt cheek, giving it a slight squeeze. Jimmy made a small, surprised noise in his throat, pulling back to grin at Ben and tease in a low, husky voice, "How long you been wanting to do that?"

"Can't tell you…you'll shoot me," Ben returned, only half-joking, words melding together, face burning hot from the alcohol and his positioning with the other boy, "Are you…you ready for this?"

"Yeah…yes," Jimmy croaked, his voice breaking somewhat. He'd read the passage in the book, he knew what to expect, but he wasn't entirely sure he'd enjoy it. It all sounded too weird. Ben smiled, repositioning so that he was slightly behind Jimmy, starting to push away Jimmy's trousers towards his knees and...

The boys both froze at the rapid sound of gunfire and explosions nearby, paralyzed, all senses suddenly on high alert and wide eyes staring out in the night. They heard the all-too-familiar, dreadful mechanical trumpet blast and their stomachs fell, instantly robbing them entirely of their heated desires, and swamping them with the biting cold night air.

"Mech," Jimmy growled recognition, scrambling to readjust his clothes and do up his trousers again. Ben was already striding towards the rifles.

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AN: I kind of didn't like how Roman's part turned out...I had it planned out and perfectly pictured in my head, but...there was supposed to be more of a build up to that convo, and I kind of had to rush it more because it fit there and it wouldn't have a place later, and I sort of wanted to get a bit of a reveal on Roman's character, show more of what's motivating him...somehow I thought chapter 33 might be a good place to give some insight on where Roman is coming from.

Also...Ben and Jimmy's first date scene, what did ya'll think? Cute? Too cutesy? Why the fuck did those Mechs have to come along?

Let me know what's on your minds!

Reviewers: SassySavanna190, I wish I had the energy in the morning to properly respond to your awesome high energy reviews! Glad to hear your fearful for the boys, as you can see in this chapter, if it's not them getting in the way of themselves, then its the war getting in the way. Anthony is an awesome character, I would almost continue watching Falling Skies just for him, but given my luck on favorite characters in that show, he's probably next to go...knock on wood. Well, people are less caught up in the killing a man thing and more caught up in Jimmy killed a man, how is that effecting him. It's not easy taking a life, even in the apocolype. What he think everyone in camp is worried about (his capabilities) isn't actually what everyone in camp is worried about (him). Bwahahaha, I know that last scene is going to have everyone's mind running to the worst (and most obvious scenario) about what the four unharnessed teens are working on, but I'm warning you: don't! Make no assumptions, just read. :) But it would be awesome if Ben and Roman teamed up to protect Jimmy...gathering around a common goal. Cookie97, lol, no she's not. But sweet girls never make history anyway. She's conniving, manipulative, and a tough love expert. JDMlvr1, I'm glad to hear you liked those two bonding moments between the characters. I kind of liked writing the one with Anthony, he didn't get much love last story. Dai might be getting some moments too, if anyone is wondering. Caswiee, hello! That is...a lot of reading in two days. I hope you took breaks to sleep and eat and junk. Bwahahahahahahahahaha, I am evil. It wasn't a lie, that flashback was legit, or as legit as a flashback in a fanfic can get. You know, I'm not sure yet if I want the boys to remember each other from the convinient store, it's more meant to be an underlying theme for the readers, so that every time the boys go into "How do we know if this is really meant to be...?", everyone can shout at their screens "YES! Damn yous..." Yeah, I don't know, we'll see. I never know where the writing is necessarily going to take me. Few chapters ago, Jimmy shot a man, that was not planned to happen at this point in the story, so...yeah...

Cookie! Yay!

See you guys next week!


	34. Chapter 34

A/N: There were some changes I needed to make to this chapter and I didn't get around to it because I have to write a paper on the Hadza hunter gatherers that's due on Tuesday and...UGH!

Oh well, forgive me please. Also, quick re-announcement because I've gotten reviews about it, although I'm liable to believe that those people don't read this A/N's and that's why they keep mentioning it, so here goes in all bold:

**Due to my schooling, updates are ONLY ON SUNDAY**. Thank you for your understanding, you guys are all so awesome.

Thank you to the reviewers, you guys make my day...not in the Dirty Harry kind of way, but in the good, positive, all smiles and no sawed off shot guns sort of way.

And a thank you to Greg for beta-ing. It's his birthday today, so give him well wishes everybody.

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XXXIV.

Adrenaline kicked hot through Ben's veins the moment he heard the siren's cry of the Mech. He slung his rifle into place up in the crook of his shoulder, swiftly and stealthily moving out of the backyard and down the street, sparing not so much as a glance to see where Jimmy was at, it wasn't necessary, he could hear the other boy's near silent movements. He only paused once he reached the corner of the cul-de-sac to listen for the attack and get his bearings straight. At a touch to his elbow, he cocked his head inquisitively to the side.

"Ben, you're drunk, I don't know if you should go…" Jimmy started concernedly.

Ben finally looked back at the other boy, his jaw firm and eyes intense. Loathe as he was to admit it, it was true that he'd been drunk, but his head and vision felt inexplicably clear now; he could sense everything going on in the camp. There were at least twenty Skitters scattered in packs of twos and threes around the community center, and five Mechs. Fighters were scrambling to muster a defense, attempting to gather the civilians inside of the building while fighting off the enemy. Everything was chaos, people were screaming, shouting, small children crying amidst the fire, debris and shrapnel shooting every which direction.

"I'm fine," Ben told him.

"You were wasted two seconds ago," Jimmy protested.

"I'm fine now. Maybe you ought to stay," Ben decided, "You've had a bit to drink and I think…"

"I'm okay. You were the one that couldn't even get a button undone," Jimmy returned sharply, shouldering his own rifle and seething, "If you're fine, then let's move."

Because of his heightened hearing, Ben was better able to pinpoint the location of the gunfight, so he led the way through the winding streets. When they were close to the action, the smell of explosives, blood, and gunpowder hot on the air, Ben signaled Jimmy one direction, indicating the number of aliens he could expect to find and then darted across the street, disappearing in the night the other way.

Jimmy dug the butt of his gun into his shoulder and let the barrel lead him as he stalked through the night, senses on alert. He kept his back to the large, cement walls that circled the backyards of those houses lining the street, attempting to stay in shadows. There were three Skitters in the area according to Ben's gestures, and though he couldn't see the other boy, he knew Ben wasn't far and would be there instantly should something catch Jimmy unawares.

Movement to the left caught Jimmy's eyes; he froze, swung his gun around and waited for a visual before firing three shots. One hit the Skitter's body, one grazed its fourth leg, and the last went clean through its head. It dropped to the ground.

Jimmy scoured the darkness, staying glued to the spot, blanketed in shadows with his back to the wall. He waited for signs of more Skitters.

None.

He heard gunfire nearby, another explosion. His heart squeezed tighter and tighter with every beat in his chest. He moved again, swinging his gun round to watch his back then forward again, always on the lookout for more aliens.

Jimmy caught a glimpse of movement across the street, a figure coming at him from between two houses. He froze again; his gun poised to shoot; waited a couple seconds then lowered the gun slightly.

Dai stepped out of the shadows, his own gun pointed downward. He nodded acknowledgment to Jimmy, then the sound of advancing Skitters caught their ears, they both spun round, fired on the three creatures rushing towards them from down the street, dropping the nightmare creatures easily in a rapid flurry of bullets. Dai jogged across the street to join Jimmy, nodded at the younger boy to follow and Jimmy did as ordered.

Together they half-sprinted, half-stalked down the street towards the sound of more gunfire and found a couple more fighters pinned down behind a station wagon firing on a group of Skitters. Side-by-side, Dai and Jimmy fell under cover and opened fire as well, dropping a few of the nasty bugs.

They heard the clunky footsteps of an advancing Mech and Dai tugged a grenade from his vest, signaled to Jimmy to cover him. Jimmy nodded understanding and dropped a Skitter, then turned his gunfire on the large mechanical beast. Though his bullets did little to harm the monstrosity, it did gain its attentions. The Mech started rushing towards Jimmy, giving Dai the chance to roll under its foot and tuck the grenade in place. Jimmy and Dai both tossed themselves to the ground as the Mech burst into pieces, shrapnel falling all over the place.

They opened fire again on the Skitters, but by then, there were only a few left to kill and then Jimmy and Dai met up with the other fighters. One of the men was on his back, blood pooling in his gut and spilling onto the pavement; another of the fighters was cradling his head and whispering soothing words to him. The other fighter, a stocky woman named Beryl, stood to the side checking her ammo. There were sounds of gunfire elsewhere.

"How many units are attacking?" Jimmy asked in a low breathy voice.

"Not sure," Dai answered distractedly, "They came at us on all sides. Where did you come from?"

Jimmy blinked, surprised by the sudden switch in conversation, and flushing at the thought of his and Ben's romantic night out in the backyard of some random house nearly half a mile outside of the camp perimeter. At first, he wondered embarrassedly at Dai's interest in his original whereabouts, until he realized that Dai was just trying to get an assessment of the battlefield.

"Couple blocks over," Jimmy replied, stammering, "Some house with a pool and…waterfall…" He winced and confessed, "Ben was with me."

"Where is he now?" Dai asked, not even bothering to dwell on the many questions posed by that information, though Beryl did give Jimmy an odd look.

"I don't know. Nearby," Jimmy answered sheepishly, well aware of the deep rouge in his cheeks and grateful of the moonless night.

Then, as if on cue, there came a sound of gunfire and the soft plop of heavy bodies hitting the ground, which precipitated the stealthy, almost noiseless approach of the 2nd Mass's resident superman. Ben stepped over the Skitters he'd just dropped, jogged the short distance from himself to the group, lowering his rifle and looking expectantly between the other fighters.

"There's another two Mechs on the southern perimeter," Ben reported to Dai, "Pope and his boys are on it. There are a few more Skitters scattered throughout camp, but they're being taken care of by other fighters. Some Skitters are retreating, I can deal with them if you want." He sighed, his eyes falling to the fighter dying on the street, "There are a few fighter casualties…some civilian too."

"Go," Dai commanded, nodding stiffly and Ben wordlessly turned and sprinted out into the night after the escaping Skitters. Jimmy watched his retreat for the few seconds he could before darkness swallowed the other boy whole, then turned his attention on the highest commanding officer in the area.

"Let's head back to camp," Dai announced, motioning to Jimmy for help with the injured fighter.

Between them they carried the injured fighter, his arms slung over their shoulders, but by the time they reached camp, he had quietly died. The rest of the 2nd Mass was busy recovering from the attack. There were four fighters dead, and eleven civilians including a little girl. Jimmy hadn't been close to any of them, but he had known them all at least by face, there were only so many people in the 2nd Mass. He had once played a game of Chutes and Ladders with the little girl, entertaining her late one night when neither of them could sleep.

Dai left to report in with Weaver and Jimmy looked for somewhere to be helpful around camp. He came across Hal first; the older Mason was on his way to Dr. Glass where he'd left Matt when the Skitters attacked.

"Where's Ben?" Hal questioned right-off-the-bat.

"Went to round up stragglers," Jimmy answered, then returned, "Where's Maggie?"

Last Jimmy had heard, Maggie and her scouting group had been in camp, their search for a new campground postponed by the sudden appearance of Skitter units traveling along the roadways they were using. At the time, no one thought much of the shift in enemy units' routes; Weaver put patrols on it and ordered fighters return to regular duties until further notice. Skitters were always popping up seemingly from nowhere and passing along in random areas, moving from one point to another to carry out whatever their leaders' ominous plans for the planet were, but in retrospect, Jimmy wondered if it was a crucial detail that could've informed this attack. He knew Weaver was somewhere worrying over the same question.

"Helping round up civilians in the main gym," Hal replied, then asked, "You okay?"

Jimmy nodded stiffly, "Yeah. You?"

Hal smirked grimly in response, clapping Jimmy on the shoulder then the two split opposite directions.

Just as Hal had said, Maggie was inside the community center, corralling civilians into the gym where they usually slept for the night, and helping a few other fighters with a head count. Maggie advanced on Jimmy as soon as she saw him, giving him an inspective once over then ruffling his hair affectionately.

"You okay, kid?"

"Yeah. What can I do right now?" Jimmy asked eagerly.

"Well, right now we're trying to establish everyone's whereabouts…" Maggie explained as she started walking away; she barely had a chance to spin around and catch Jimmy before he face-planted on the ground, sputtering in stun, "But what _you_ can do right now is go lie down and grab a breather."

Jimmy blinked away the sudden black inkiness splotching across his vision, his head spinning, dizzy. He shook it off and straightened, flushing with embarrassment and glancing around to assess how many had seen his near-fainting spell. Thankfully, most people were too busy to notice.

"I'm fine," he stammered, it wasn't a total lie. He buried his red face in a palm, his limbs felt so heavy, as though made of lead. He murmured, "I don't know what just happened."

"What just happened is weeks on end with less than two hours of sleep a night and then a sudden burst of adrenaline. We're good here, Jimmy," Maggie assured the young boy. She placed her hand on his forehead a moment, pushed the hair away from his face, then dropped her hand to rest on his shoulder, "Go find somewhere to sit, rest. We'll let you know if we need you."

Jimmy sighed, rolling his eyes and nodding grumpily. He put a great deal of effort into looking as though he were walking easily out of that community center, and wandered around camp for a few minutes, people scrambling around him attempting to make themselves useful, before finding himself at Ben's tent, wondering how long the other boy would take. He slipped inside and took a seat on the sleeping bag.

The dizziness was returning in full force, and now a cold feeling rushed through Jimmy's veins, and a sound like the ocean roared in his ears. He gasped for breath, he felt as though he were drowning, and squeezed his eyes tightly shut, involuntary tears streaming down his cheek. His hand was trembling and he hastily rolled the sleeve back, the translucence was back and it had spread all along his forearm, crawling up past his elbow towards the bicep.

"What is wrong with me…?" he whispered harshly, hugging the limb to himself. An overwhelming fear swallowed him whole, and as he fell into a rush of black, his head hitting the floor of the tent heavily, the hard impact ringing through his skull, the only thought in his mind was a silent prayer that Ben would return to save him from the darkness soon.

…

It was well past midnight when Ben made it back to the 2nd Mass. He'd followed the retreating Skitters back to the playground where he had slaughtered five Skitters several nights back. Vaguely, guiltily, he wondered if their comrades, felled by his hand, had been what alerted them to the 2nd Mass's presence, but part of Ben felt certain that the Skitters had known since the moment the 2nd Mass arrived at that community center that they were 'hidden away' there and this was just the first the enemy decided to do anything about it.

Ben hunted down the rest of the Skitters in the area, ten in all, and killed them each with relatively little struggle. They were all too scattered to come to one another's aid when he sprung his attacks.

Still feeling restless, adrenaline pumping at high level, Ben took his time returning to the 2nd Mass. They had been fine when he left; winding down from that assault, and Ben hadn't heard the telltale sounds of other hidden units in the area.

They didn't need him for the after battle cool down. If he tried to help out in recovery stages he usually just received dark looks for his troubles and there was typically an increase in mutterings behind his back about 'why couldn't he have just been taken in the attack' and 'how do we know he isn't reporting back to the Skitters our location' and 'Don't let that razorback near me, I'll blow his fucking head off if he comes near me'. Often times he found himself wondering how many people really were unaware of his heightened hearing or if maybe they all knew and were just feigning ignorance, all along intending for him to hear their cruel words.

Regardless, Ben needed the long jog and, more specifically, the thrill of the hunt to cool his head. He felt restless, his senses going a mile a minute.

He could hear everything – _everything_ – for miles around. The ants crawling on the ground, the birds nesting in trees, the low whistle of a small breeze flitting through the grass, he could hear it all as though mother nature herself were kicked to max volume.

His eyes didn't so much see the world, it sensed it, every color invading his mind and overloading his brain. He noticed everything – _everything_ – that moved within his field of vision for several yards away, well past the twenty-twenty marker.

The smells were oddly muted, but the feelings were intense. The air prickled his skin, it was almost as though he could feel every individual molecule around him and he could feel how it moved, how it flowed. He wasn't sensing these things around him; he was sensing these things through him.

It almost made him wonder about how things might taste.

By the time Ben made it back to camp he had jogged for hours, found seven more Skitters and killed some with his gun, the rest with his knife. He was drenched in sweat and Skitter blood. The 2nd Mass had calmed considerably since he'd left, many of the civilians were securely inside, slumbering from the sounds of things. Weaver was conversing about a course of action in response to the attack with several of the most trusted fighters and Hal seemed to be amongst them, along with Dai, of course, Anthony, and Maggie. Undoubtedly, he would call a full meeting soon. Many other fighters were out and about securing the perimeter.

Ben went around the backside of the community center building where he knew there to be a hose faucet and used the water there to clean himself up a bit. He listened to the people around camp, sorting through the sounds in search of those people who mattered most to him. He could hear that people were mourning; some demanded to know who would or should bear responsibility for the attack, while others easily placed blame in the failings of all fighters and their commander.

For Ben, it was difficult to listen to, the fighters risked themselves daily for the group, and civilians that refused to lift weapons and go into the battlefield had no room to talk about where blame should lie. Furthermore, it was absurd to expect their commander anticipate everything to the point of superhuman abilities of premonition. Weaver had placed a patrol on the area where the surge in units was obvious and awaited further information; it was what any good commander would or could do in that situation, and he had planned on letting whatever gathered intel came back direct his next actions. From the sounds of Weaver's discussions with the other fighters, the patrol hadn't returned, and was presumed dead, which bumped the fighter casualty count up four more to eight, a hit they couldn't afford to their already severely dwindling numbers, though Weaver wanted to immediately send out a unit to confirm the deaths.

Ben frowned, standing and knocking water from his hands. He could hear Matt in the community center with Dr. Glass and Lourdes, shaken up if the tremble in his small voice as he asked for his brothers were any indication, but Ben couldn't locate Jimmy. He tried not to let himself panic, he'd seen Jimmy before pursuing the retreating Skitters. Jimmy had been in one piece then and the fight had already been dying down, it was unlikely he could have suffered anything terrible in Ben's absence, so Ben decided to check in on Matt, hoping to run across Jimmy or someone who knew his whereabouts along the way.

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A/N: It's sort of subtly hinted at but never outright mentioned in First Patrol, in the scene after the drunken first kiss when Ben and Jimmy are at the Ranger Station, Ben venting, and Jimmy has obvious 'hung-over' symptoms but Ben really doesn't and should for someone so drunk, anyhow Ben doesn't process alcohol the same as everyone else. It'll be explained later...much later.

Thanks for stopping by! Let me know what you think.

Reviewers: SassySavanna190, Interesting thoughts on Roman's talk with Jimmy. Ben really couldn't confront Roman there or tell Weaver, because he's got nothing. He overheard some odd things, but in the end, its his word against theirs, and unharnessed kids all around get no benefit of the doubt. Last, if aliens did invade, unless they were Star Trek style aliens (read as: looked almost human save for funny ears or ridges on the nose) then yes, they would think we looked just as strange as they did to us. They also wouldn't call themselves aliens, unless they were using the term to communicate to us in their language because that's what we refer to them as. Izzy IRT, YAY, thanks for being my 200th reviewer! I'm glad you love the story. JDMlvr1, ahahahahahahahaha, yes, I'm terrible. They were close too, so freaking close. Damn alien invasion, always getting in the way of the schmexy. You are forgiven for the lateness, damn phone hiding things from you. Caswiee, lol, you should join the club. The "We love the story but hate the author for being such a cruel heartless bitch" club. No...not repaid in this chapter...maybe not the next either. I promise, it'll get paid in full eventually. No more cookies? I think I may cry. Cookie97, wait, here's a cookie! Best kind too. I'm glad you liked Roman's confession, and you're not as paranoid about it as some people...won't discuss his motives though. Drunk/horny Ben is the best! I love writing him drunk/horny. A sign of sexual frustration huh? No, I had never heard that, though it certainly would make sense in both Jimmy and Ben's case. Jimmy because he doesn't want to admit how much he wants Ben, and Ben because Jimmy won't admit how much he wants Ben.

Hm...I kept forgetting, but last I'd heard from WhisperMaw she had mid-terms to take, and I completely blanked (twice) on wishing her luck with those, this is why I shouldn't post these chapters before I've had coffee, anyhow, I assume you're reading WhisperMaw so I hope you did well on those mid-terms!

Right. Hope you all enjoyed. I'm off to write a paper. First paper of the semester, my stomach is rife with anxiety. See you all Sunday!


	35. Chapter 35

A/N: Did a little drinking last night, so I'm a bit groggy right now, please forgive me any crazy talk.

Thank you to the reviewers, you guys are amazing!

And thank you to Greg for beta-ing.

Read.

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XXXV.

Inside of the community center, people were huddled together comforting one another. Ben spotted Dr. Glass in the main gym tending to injured, he waved at her, and she returned the gesture, but he didn't want to bother her as she bandaged an older gentleman's head. Matt was in one of the classrooms with the majority of the younger children, Uncle Scott, his wife Kate, and Lourdes were with them. Matt was curled up on a cot in the room attempting to fall asleep as Lourdes read him a bedtime story. She paused, smiling faintly when Ben entered.

"Hey," Ben greeted stiffly, he couldn't say he was overly familiar with the girl but she seemed pleasant enough to him, he couldn't exactly expect much in that regard so was always happy of anyone that didn't outright call him a 'razorback' or something less savory, and she treated Matt well, which was all that really mattered as far as he was concerned.

"Hi," Lourdes returned.

"Ben, you're back," Matt exclaimed, propping himself up slightly in the cot, "Did you get them? All the Skitters?"

Ben smirked, crossing the room and ruffling Matt's hair, "Of course I did. How are you feeling?"

Matt shrugged and Lourdes put the book she'd been reading him down and answered in a small voice, "He's a little shaken up. We all are. One of the Skitters got into the community center…killed someone…a man who tried to protect everyone. All of the fighters were outside fighting and..."

Ben nodded his understanding. He lowered his eyes, and let the anger at that detail of the attack surge through him. How did a Skitter even get passed the first perimeter, how did any of those Skitters and the Mechs make it past the first perimeter? That's why they had patrol units and fighters, wasn't it? Where exactly were they all? And where the fuck was Hal? Shouldn't Hal, at the very least, have been watching over Matt?

Ben scowled, glared into the distance, and realized the same could be said of him. Where exactly was _he_ at that moment, when the enemy attacked? Why wasn't he there, why was it that another man had to die protecting his younger brother? He should have been the one there protecting Matt. Ben flashed on Jimmy, on the sweet moments they'd shared right before the attacks and grimaced, frustrated, Hal's constant demands to spend time with the family suddenly rushing to the forefront of his mind. It shouldn't have to be a choice. He touched Matt's head briefly.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there. I will be next time," he vowed.

Matt said nothing, lowering himself back to the cot. Ben pulled up a chair to sit beside him until he fell asleep, Lourdes taking her leave to care for the other children. Ben was still uncertain of Jimmy's location. He had asked several people about the other boy on his way to the classroom, and those few that were 'kind' enough to stop and talk were all uncertain, and their answers each contradicted one another or made no sense at all. Some swore they saw Jimmy in the community center during the attack, and Ben knew that wasn't true, others wondered darkly if he was amongst the dead, which Ben vehemently denied, and others still had seen him in the center, outside by the parking lot, talking with Weaver, or couldn't be bothered to keep track of 'one stupid kid'.

Several minutes after Matt had fallen asleep, Uncle Scott approached Ben.

"How are you?" the older man asked.

"Okay, I guess," Ben answered, leaning forward on his knees and rubbing the tumultuous emotions from his features, "Thank you, for taking care of my brother."

"Oh no, it's not a problem," Uncle Scott returned, pulling up another chair, positioning it so he was sitting across from Ben, "Now's probably not the time for this, but when would be the time, I wonder? I've wanted to talk to you about what happened last night…"

"What…happened…last night?" Ben repeated uncertainly. He tried to recall last night, but of course, that was the night he couldn't recall. All he knew was he'd hurt Jimmy and then went hunting, but that didn't involve Uncle Scott, as far as he knew. Then his eyes widened in realization. After he'd left Weaver's, he'd encountered Uncle Scott and Jamil in the classroom listening to that ominous signal pouring through the radio speakers. It was the last thing he could remember before being in his tent with a knife to Hal's throat.

"I haven't mentioned it to anyone else; I wanted to give you a chance to explain yourself before I decided what I might do, if anything," Uncle Scott continued, "So…you mind explaining what happened?"

"I…well…that is…" Ben stammered, tipping his head forward and scouring the dark recesses of his memory, tentatively asking, "What…do I need…to explain?"

"I was kind of hoping you might tell me what exactly it was you did to that radio," Uncle Scott supplied, "When you touched it, that signal suddenly came through loud and clear, then it shorted out, and those things in your back burned blue."

"They…what?" Ben gaped, catching his breath, "Did I do…anything else…needing explaining?"

"Don't you remember?" Uncle Scott pressed.

"I…" Ben faltered, lowered his eyes and willed himself to breath. He rationalized that if he'd injured anyone, or done anything extraordinarily out of character, Uncle Scott would've already reported it, and he'd be having this conversation with Weaver under armed guard, "I'm sorry, Uncle Scott, I don't know what I did to the radio. Maybe I just…had a static electric build up?"

"And those rods in your back?" Uncle Scott persisted, eyeing Ben skeptically, "You going to tell me static electricity made them glow blue, too?"

"I don't know," Ben mumbled, letting a bit of agitation into his tone as he pointed out, "I know about as much about these things in my back as everyone else around here, so I don't know what you expect me to say."

"Alright, alright, fair enough," Uncle Scott replied, sitting back and studying Ben a moment, "I think we should talk to my niece about it after things have died down around here."

"What good would that do?" Ben mused. He sniffed, sighed, and buried his head in his hands, "People in this camp hate me. They don't trust me. If it gets out that these things in my back are doing something strange, especially so soon after this attack…they'll think I had something to do with it."

"I understand that, I do," Uncle Scott said, "I'm a little wary myself of sharing what I picked up on that radio for the same reasons, but hiding it won't make it go away, and if it did play a role in what happened tonight…"

"I didn't bring the Skitters here," Ben snapped, heat flooding his features. He tried to control the adrenaline kicking hard into his blood stream, afraid he might lose control in that classroom, with his younger brother beside him. The fear of hurting Matt was the only thing keeping his head cool at that moment and he hoped it was enough.

"I'm not saying that you did," Uncle Scott reassured him, "But if it is a possibility that those spikes of yours had something to do with it, same as my fiddling with that radio, and one or both of us might've unintentionally brought the enemy here, well, we can't let our fears that others will falsely believe we were responsible keep us from figuring out if we might really have been and perhaps how we can stop it from happening again. Does that seem reasonable to you?"

"I guess," Ben mumbled, dropping his eyes, and quietly noting, "If I am responsible, they'll send me away."

"No, they won't," Uncle Scott told him sharply, "I won't let that happen, and neither will your brothers."

"Right," Ben whispered, as if any of them would have the power to stop the masses from banishing him, or worse, executing him 'for the good of the group', "I guess…when everything is sorted out…we can tell Dr. Glass."

"Alright. Good, that's a wise choice, Ben," Uncle Scott said, giving Ben's shoulder a hearty pat, "You should go grab some sleep while you can, I have a feeling you won't be getting much rest until we've relocated the group. Don't worry about your brother; I'll keep an eye on him."

"Okay, thank you," Ben mumbled, standing and heading for the door. Lourdes called a quiet good-bye to him in passing and he nodded acknowledgment to her.

It was difficult to ignore the looks Ben received as he weaved his way through the crowds. He caught sight of Hal, and decided he ought to check in with his brother for once, crossing camp to meet the older boy, though mostly he just wanted to be near someone whose dark looks weren't because of his 'alien side'. Hal was talking to Anthony and a few younger fighters; they were trying to figure out a tighter patrol route. It seemed they wanted to pull all units back as close to the base camp as possible and take up a defensive position for the night, which meant they were anticipating another attack.

"How's Matt?" Hal asked, stepping to the side to speak in low whispers with his brother.

"He's fine. He's sleeping now," Ben answered, rubbing the back of his head and mumbling, "How are you?"

"Alive," Hal replied, with a shrug, "You?"

"Alive," Ben smirked in return.

"I heard you went to chase down some Skitter stragglers," Hal remarked.

"Yeah. They're dead," Ben said.

"I wish you hadn't," Hal grumbled.

"But I did. So get over it," Ben muttered, then sighed and explained, "It was on Dai's order. I didn't just go on my own."

"Right. Weaver is calling a meeting tomorrow at oh-six hundred. He's sending a few units out to determine our escape route, but we still have no clue where to camp out next," Hal explained, "I volunteered to head out with one of the units. He might come looking for you later."

"I'll go find him," Ben decided, "If he needs me to scout…"

"He doesn't want you to scout. He doesn't want you to leave camp," Hal interjected, and Ben perked an inquisitive brow at that, "People are talking. Rumors are floating around…everyone knows you were away from camp when the Skitters hit."

"Meaning _what_, exactly?" Ben growled, a fleeting pang in his chest, as he cried out, putting all his willpower into keeping the tremor of petulance from his tone, "I was with Jimmy."

It wasn't fair. Was everyone scrutinizing Jimmy for being away also? No, because Jimmy didn't have the spikes in his back. Forget, of course, that Ben just returned from running down a flock of Skitters before they could report back to a larger force the 2nd Mass's location and vulnerability after that surprise attack. The dirty looks and nasty remarks were bad enough, but now his role as a fighter and his use to the 2nd Mass was being threatened, and truth be told, he felt ready to throw the towel in, give up the fight, and let the last remaining bits of the human race know they could fight the rest of the war their own damn selves, hell, what was he fighting for so desperately anyway, when the thing he should be fighting for, his youngest brother, was left alone unprotected. He didn't want to be a hero, certainly not mankind's hero, when they were all so desperate to remind him he didn't qualify as a member of mankind.

"I know, Ben, but…it just doesn't look good right now," Hal said, unable or unwilling to lift his eyes to meet Ben's, "Just…keep your head down for a bit, okay? Hang out with Matt while we sort out what to do next."

"Fine," Ben muttered, and while Hal looked mildly surprised at how quickly that argument fizzled and burned out, he didn't make comment, "Have you seen Jimmy?"

"Um…yeah, earlier," Hal answered, "Few hours back. He told me you took off after those Skitters, asked me where Maggie was, but I don't know if he found her or where he went from there."

"Thanks," Ben grumbled, spinning on heel and stalking towards his tent. It was impossible to ignore the looks he received crossing camp now, and did little to quell the growing feeling inside of him of disdain for every last one of them.

When Ben entered his tent, he hadn't realized how worried about Jimmy he'd truly been until he found the other boy sprawled, asleep, across his tent floor. Ben nearly collapsed in his own relief. He ran a hand over his face, furiously rubbing away the day's events, as he quietly wandered towards the other boy. Immediately, his heart crushed under the weight of his own conflicted guilt. He dropped to his knees besides slumbering Jimmy, fighting the urge to smile affectionately, fighting the urge to cry out in frustration.

Ben had nearly lost his younger brother and managed to further exacerbate the 2nd Mass's lack of trust in him all because he'd been out with Jimmy, but as usual, Jimmy wasn't exactly making it easy for Ben to decide what his greater priorities were, not looking the way he did curled up on the ground like that, snoring softly and looking so sweet and vulnerable, with that tense frown on his lip and deep crease in his brow.

Ben traced his fingertips along the side of Jimmy's face, beautiful heartache yawning in his chest. The part of him that wanted to give up fighting, to stay in camp protecting Matt and doing no more, stood no chance against the raging and selfish part of Ben that thought only of this boy in tormented slumber on his tent floor, that overwhelming part of him that hated the aliens for all they'd done to hurt and destroy this poor boy, and wanting desperately to win the war, if only because of the hope that doing so would mean a future with this one beautiful boy.

Ben sighed, rising to leave Jimmy in sleep, determining to keep vigil in the corner. He wasn't really tired anyway.

"Wait…I'm awake…" Jimmy groggily declared, just as Ben had taken his first few steps away.

Ben winced involuntarily, worrying he'd stirred Jimmy to wakefulness. He peeked back; Jimmy had lifted himself somewhat, and was peeling his eyes open, rubbing them to get the sleep out. When he seemed ready, Jimmy glanced strangely at his arm, tentatively rolling a sleeve up and staring at it with narrowed eyes before blinking a few times, that same expression he wore when they had been in bed together in one of the nearby houses. He shrugged, evidently not finding what he was looking for, and then stretched. Ben furrowed his brow, turning to fully face Jimmy and shoving his hands in his pockets. Jimmy looked at him owlishly and Ben felt his stomach flop over.

"Took you long enough," Jimmy complained.

"Yeah…well…I had to chase down a group of Skitters racing away at full speed," Ben grumbled reply.

"Excuses, excuses," Jimmy muttered, he frowned at the floor and noted, "Worst date ever."

"Hey, the date went great," Ben protested, tentatively amending, "It was just the 'after date' that wasn't so great."

Ben meandered over and plopped on the ground beside Jimmy, they met one another's eyes, shared a small, sad smile.

"You know, I kind of always had this hunch that my first date would be awful, I just didn't think it would be because aliens attacked," Ben commented softly, frowning at the sleeping bag and attempting in vain to smooth out the wrinkles in its top. Jimmy shifted positions, folding his legs and cupping his chin in the palm of his hand, propped up on an elbow.

"That was your first date?" Jimmy sheepishly noted.

"Yeah…well…I was thirteen when the aliens invaded…so…you know…no big deal," Ben stammered, embarrassedly. What was he supposed to say? He wasn't popular in school. Jimmy had already somewhat surmised that much on his own, why was he acting so surprised?

"Oh," Jimmy murmured, smiling softly at the tent floor a moment, before quietly admitting, "My first date was awful. Her mom drove us to the movie theater and kept telling me I was the cutest thing she'd ever seen, like I was a fucking puppy or something. She wanted to see something romantic, so the movie sucked. I only had enough money to cover the tickets, so she got mad that she had to buy her own soda. And my friends had followed and sat in the back row throwing popcorn at us the whole time. Assholes…"

Ben stared at Jimmy, stunned by the sudden story sharing, and smirking softly, struggling not to just reach out, drag that other boy to him and kiss him hard. Sadness lingered in Jimmy's eyes a moment, the extended edition of that memory playing through his mind, and then he blinked it away and looked expectantly at Ben. Ben plopped on the ground beside Jimmy, pulled his knees up, wrapped his arms around them, and rested his forehead atop.

"Skitter got in the community center," he said, "Hal had left Matt with Dr. Glass when it broke in."

"Is he okay?" Jimmy questioned concern evident in the waver of his voice.

"He was alone," Ben mumbled.

"He was with Dr. Glass and the other civilians," Jimmy pointed out, confused by the statement. Ben scrunched his features, felt a cinch in his chest, a knot forming around his heart.

"Hal wasn't with him, though," Ben explained, then whispered, "_I_ wasn't with him. He could've died or been taken and harnessed, and where was I? Breaking into some house where I wasn't supposed to be, messing around…"

"What are you trying to say? That it's my fault? Because you were the one who wanted…" Jimmy started, his tone was harsh, but it trembled with emotion.

"No. It's _my_ fault," Ben replied sharply. He tried to bring himself to look at the other boy, but he couldn't do it, he didn't have the strength to see what expression Jimmy wore, didn't think he could keep his own emotions contained, "It's _always_ my fault."

There was a long drawn out silence from Jimmy and Ben couldn't guess at what the other boy was thinking, at what he was feeling right then in that moment. Ben froze at the touch to his shoulder, he glanced back to find that it was the heavy weight of Jimmy's forehead. Ben's heart stopped a moment, and then sprinted into high gear. He pressed his lips together, a thin line, grimacing, and glared forward to the tent entrance.

"What would you have really done, if you were there?" Jimmy wondered, he dropped his voice low and said, "You would've had to leave him with the doctor, too, just like Hal. You can't take responsibility for everything, Ben."

"_You_ always do," Ben replied, smirking somewhat.

"Yeah, and it's turned out so well for me, right?" Jimmy snapped.

Ben could feel the other boy's brow wrinkle and then Jimmy turned his face to rest his cheek on Ben's shoulder instead. He traced a finger over Ben's t-shirt, around the rods that lined Ben's spine and Ben shuddered involuntarily from the phantom touch.

"People are talking about me," Ben admitted, sighing, "About how I wasn't here when the attack started."

"So? Neither was I," Jimmy pointed out.

"Yeah, but you're not the razorback," Ben returned, humorlessly, and Jimmy's finger stopped dead in its tracks, "I can hear them all talking about it right now. Most of them want me gone. They think I was out there talking to the Skitters, telling them where we were…and maybe they're right, maybe I should be gone…maybe I did have something to do with it…maybe this whole night was my fault and people are dead because…"

"Stop it," Jimmy commanded in a steely tone. He pulled back from Ben and Ben instantly missed the touch, "Look at me."

Ben shook his head, glared at the tarp floor.

"Ben," Jimmy growled, using a hand to forcibly turn Ben's face towards his own, "Look at me."

Ben scowled, brought his eyes up to meet Jimmy's piercing gaze.

"Fuck 'em," Jimmy determined, shrugging, "They don't know what they're talking about. You were out with me; you know that, I know that, so they can talk all they want, it won't change what really happened. Why do you care what they think anyway?"

"I don't know," Ben mumbled, then shrugged, "I don't care, I guess," he smirked, "I care what you think."

"I know where you were," Jimmy said absently, brushing a kiss to Ben's lips.

"Yeah," Ben smiled, then returned the kiss, slipping an arm around Jimmy's waist, dragging him close and nuzzling his neck, as Uncle Scott's words from earlier echoed in Ben's ears, and visions of Jimmy slammed against the wall, a knife to Hal's neck, his strange blackouts, dreams of an alien world and a strange girl, all flashed before his eyes, "Weaver is keeping me in camp until we've retreated. Because he doesn't know if he can trust me. Because nobody trusts me."

"Stupid," Jimmy muttered.

"Maybe," Ben returned, shrugging, and sighing against Jimmy's skin, breathing Jimmy in and relishing the feel of his body, warm and soft. He smiled vaguely, and made light comment, "So close."

"Close to what?" Jimmy mused.

Ben shifted to glance pointedly at Jimmy's backside and Jimmy flushed noticeably.

"Right. You're clearly feeling better now, so I'm going to go see if Weaver needs me for anything," Jimmy announced, mock indignant.

Jimmy started to climb to his feet, but Ben grabbed hold of him, dragging him back down by the wrist and wrapping him up in a strong embrace, smothering him with kisses fluttering along his neck and jaw and cheeks, pushing him back onto the ground and settling atop him, mouth immediately latching onto his own.

"Ben, I really do need to go," Jimmy half-chuckled, squirming somewhat, his expression somber, brow wrinkling concernedly as he reminded Ben, "We're still recovering from this attack and we're down four fighters. They might need me on patrol."

"Eight fighters actually, and I need you more," Ben retorted, propping himself up to gaze imploringly into Jimmy's eyes, a tint of sadness in their shimmering depths, "Please…just for a few minutes. Stay. I just want to…want to be with you right now…not like that…I mean…I just want to…want to know you're here…right now is all."

A strange emotion flickered through Jimmy's features, and he smiled softly, pulling Ben back down into a kiss, holding him tightly.

"Okay…just for a few minutes," Jimmy relented, ghosting his fingers absently along the rods jutting out of Ben's neck. His hand started to slide away down Ben's shoulder, and Ben grabbed hold of it, gently drawing it back towards the cool metal.

"No," Ben whispered, ducking his head down as he meekly told the other boy, "Leave it there."

A question flitted through Jimmy's expression only briefly, before something like understanding edged into his blue eyes, and he nodded, sliding his other hand up beneath Ben's shirt to trace along each and every rod sticking from his spine. Ben sighed, relaxed and closed his eyes. Distantly, he was aware of the whispers flitting through camp, but it didn't matter, fuck them. He wasn't fighting for them; he was fighting for this boy. He didn't need to be mankind's hero; he only needed to be Jimmy's hero.

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A/N: Hm...yup, that.

Uh...tired...got to go watch a lecture so...

Let me know what you think please!

Reviewers: SassySavanna190, glad you liked the chapter so much! Yeah, Dai is the strong silent type. I keep wanting to give him bigger bonding scenes with Jimmy or something, but he won't cooperate. Bugger. Lol, interesting theories on the unharnessed kids being the ones to spill the beans...hm...and yeah, I think everyone knows my feelings on "civilians" in the show. Yay! Look, they're all right! Cookie97, oi, I hope you did well on your math mid-term. I have a love-hate relationship with math, to be honest, I love its beauty, I hate its complicatedness. No, Ben doesn't do the things he should. Ah, you make a good cookie too! JDMlvr1, Ben is always on time! Okay...maybe not always...but you won't need to save Jimmy, this time anyway. He's okay! My paper did go well-ish, thank you!

See you guys next Sunday!


	36. Chapter 36

A/N: Oi, I'm so exhausted...was up late writing this story...it's been nearly a week since I wrote anymore to it, so I needed to get pumping on chapters. I need to finish this damn story so I can start writing other stuff gosh darn it all. In exciting news, I'm about two...maybe three chapters away from introducing Tom into the story!

Thank you to the reviewers for all your awesomeness! Glad the fluff last chapter sort of...kind of made up for the lack of smut. :)

And thank you to Greg for beta-ing.

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XXXVI.

Weaver held the meeting outside, the number of fighters grievously small. For the first time, Roman and his friends joined the array, hovering near the back. Roman nodded acknowledgment at Jimmy when he and Ben joined the group, and Jimmy furrowed his brow in question, but decided to let it be for now. He would talk to them after the meeting. He wasn't sure where they'd been during the attack; whether they'd joined the fray or not, though if they had it would certainly explain their presence that morning.

For the most part, all of the civilians were holed up in the community center, packing personal and community belongings and preparing for a quick move. Although lives were lost the night before, there was no time to grieve. Some of the civilians were busy preparing graves for the dead; they would have a funeral shortly, and then take their leave of the area as soon as possible.

Jimmy and Ben took up position near the back of the group as well, though they kept their distance from the other unharnessed teens. Jimmy folded his arms across his chest, furrowed his brow, and studied Weaver a moment. The night before he'd left Ben after nearly an hour together, reveling in one another's presence, and sought out Weaver for instruction, but the old man had his hands full with reports flooding in from various scouting groups, so Jimmy was quickly passed off to Dai and then Anthony. He went on patrol with an older boy that he didn't know very well, for several hours wandering the small perimeter in awkward silence, worrying about Ben the entire time. He supposed Ben's behavior before he'd left, practically begging Jimmy to stay, just to hold him, wasn't entirely out of character, but then Ben made no move to push things farther, which was a little disturbing.

To an extent, Jimmy understood Ben's sudden clinginess. When everyone in the world seemed to hate him, of course he'd want to hang on to the one person that didn't. Yet, there was something else in Ben's expression, something in his voice, almost like that of a small child's, that made Jimmy think there was more to it than Ben simply wanting confirmation that he wasn't the monster everyone claimed him to be.

In the night, there had been two more minor attacks that had been easily quelled, but it only gave credence to growing concern that a larger force was prepping assault.

"Why isn't he talking yet?" Ben griped, leaning in close to Jimmy and dropping his voice low. He had immediately positioned himself between Jimmy and the unharnessed four, and was darting dangerous looks their direction every so often, as though daring them to step any closer.

Jimmy thought to give Ben hell for it, maybe even point out that he would be continuing training them soon and that would mean he'd be interacting with them again, but after the attack and knowing what people were saying about Ben around camp, Jimmy decided to let it go. He didn't have it in him to argue with Ben right at that moment about pretty much anything.

"I don't know," Jimmy murmured response, eying the captain curiously.

Weaver had his hands on his hips, his head tipped forward, his hat obscuring view of his face, as he and Dai listened intently to a few other older fighters. His shoulders were tightly wound, and he kept walking a few paces forward than turning and walking back. He was upset and disturbed, obviously, but that was understandable given the attack, but there was agitation in the older man, restlessness akin to Ben's 'trapped at camp' restlessness, a tiger in a cage.

"Something bad came back in the reports," Jimmy whispered realization, stomach bottoming out, "We have no way out."

"Shit," Ben murmured, ducking his face close to Jimmy's, "You think?"

"It's the only thing," Jimmy reasoned, "It's not like the school a few months back when the best we had was a suicide plan, or that roadblock last month where we had a just so crazy it might work plan…but this…this is bad…this is really bad. Dai isn't saying anything, Weaver isn't saying anything…they don't have a plan."

"You're sure?" Ben whispered, peeking up at the two older men. He couldn't listen in on their conversation to verify Jimmy's suspicions because, as Jimmy noted, neither men were talking nor could he read them quite the way Jimmy could. The best he could glean was that they were both upset, but any idiot could figure that out.

Ben searched for his brother amongst the gathered fighters. Hal was in the front with Anthony and Maggie, whispering amongst themselves. He tried to catch Hal's eye, having gone on scout the night before Hal would have a better idea of what was going on, but the older boy was engrossed in his current conversation, which itself was a perturbing sign. Hal would've at least made certain Ben was present for the meeting but he hadn't checked the group once since Ben arrived.

"They'll figure something out," Ben silently told Jimmy.

"Yeah," Jimmy returned, though he didn't sound convinced.

"And if they don't, I will," Ben decided.

Jimmy glanced at the other boy, but Ben kept his intense gaze focused forward.

Finally, Weaver took up position at the head of the group and called attention. His expression was grim, his eyes downcast. When he spoke, his voice sounded weathered and faraway.

"Last night was…was a terrible blow. You all held your ground, fought hard and…and I'm proud of you," he started, "But we…we're not out of the fire yet. Most of you already know scouts went out last night and…well...reports are…that they have us surrounded."

The group broke into hushed whispers and Hal finally looked back to meet Ben's eyes, expression severely drawn. Ben nodded, leaning his shoulder heavy against Jimmy's. Jimmy studied his shoes, his hair falling across his face, arms folded over his stomach.

"It looks like the enemy troops have been closing us out for days, they blindsided us, goddamned bugs, they had to have figured out we were here weeks ago," Weaver continued quietly, shaking his head. A few looks went back Ben's direction and he shifted uncomfortably from the stares, pressing himself closer to Jimmy in effort to keep his head cool, "As of right now, our only option appears to be fighting our way through. The enemy looks thin in areas…we are gathering more information where we can but…"

"Can we distract the enemy? Draw their troops to another area?" One of the fighters in the middle of the group asked.

"We're exploring that option now," Weaver answered unsteadily, "Right now, though, we don't seem to have any viable targets."

"What about the alien structure?" Jimmy called out question and some eyes spun round to peer curiously at him and he ducked his head down, suddenly embarrassed. He rarely spoke up during fighter gatherings. He cleared his throat and tentatively continued, "Setting off explosives on the one in the warehouse made the Skitters retreat from the area…maybe it'll be the same here…"

A rash of excited whispers broke out amongst the group, and Ben gave Jimmy a questioning look: _one in the warehouse_? Jimmy shrugged apologetically at Ben, eyes studying the ground.

"We don't have enough information on that thing," Weaver reasoned, "How many troops are guarding it, topographical details of the area, hell, we don't even know if we can destroy the thing…and with the enemy breathing down our neck, I need all available fighters here defending the civilians and figuring out how to get us the hell out of here..."

"Then send me," Ben spoke up, both Jimmy and Hal darting him alarmed looks.

"Ben…I can't do that…" Weaver started.

"Why? Because no one trusts me," Ben interjected sharply, and a still hush fell over the group, "I don't qualify as an available fighter because I'm sitting at camp doing nothing, so send me out there. Worst case scenario, I really am working for the Skitters and they find out…nothing more than they already now. Best case scenario, I'm not working for them, but I don't come back, and everyone here can finally breathe easy."

Jimmy flinched back at that statement, eyes dropping to hide the pain that flashed across them, and Hal boiled in his seat, shaking his head threateningly at his younger brother.

"Ben, you're not going anywhere," Hal seethed, "Weaver, he is not…"

"It's alright, Hal. Ben, I cannot send you down there," Weaver cut in, "Whether people trust you or not doesn't mean one lick to me, son, and you ought to know that. Only reason I have you stuck at camp right now is because I _need_ you at camp. I got a lot of fighters away on scout and intel harvesting, ten to be exact, and you're about ten fighters in battle. I need you here to make up for their absence if that assault does come. I'm sorry if that got lost in translation."

A swell of emotion swarmed through Ben's chest, a strange kind of relief, and he breathed it in momentarily, before shaking it away and refocusing on his argument.

"Touched as I am, sir," Ben persisted, "Jimmy's right, our best chance of getting out of here is to attack that structure and I'm the only one that can get to it. Call back the scouts, reinforce the defenses here, and send me out."

"You may be ten in battle, but you're still one boy," Weaver continued, "I'm not sending you out with no backup…there's a saying about all your hens in one basket, I think it applies here."

"I'll go with him," Jimmy quickly piped up.

"No," Weaver determined, giving Jimmy a severe look, "I am not putting you out in hard battle so soon after that last op."

"I'm fine," Jimmy protested, "I handled myself during the attack…sir, I can handle it."

"That's fine. I don't want him out there with me," Ben said with a steely finality, and several puzzled, as well as a few suspicious looks shot his direction, including a brief and poignantly pained glare from Jimmy, and then Ben tensed his jaw and declared, "If all I need for you to give me the go ahead is backup, sir, then send me out there with another razorback."

A few people shifted uncomfortably at the slur, and Jimmy dropped his eyes, hating the pain spreading unequaled through his entire body. He felt as though he'd been stabbed clear through the chest, he couldn't breathe, it hurt too much. He thought he'd have more time to prepare for this moment, when he would be removed from Ben's side in battle, he certainly didn't expect Ben to instigate it.

"None of them are trained well enough…" Weaver argued.

"Then we'll all go," Roman spoke up.

Everyone shifted their attention to the four teenagers standing in various degrees of uncertainty in the back, evidently some people had forgotten they were there, still others clearly had no clue who they even were.

Roman smirked darkly at Ben and decided, "But only if Jimmy comes too."

Dai had stepped forward by then, touching Weaver's arm to gain his attention, and both men exchanged low whispers at the front. Jimmy peered curiously back at the four teenagers, Kelsey didn't look thrilled by Roman's ultimatum, Douglas seemed to still be wrapping his head around the idea they'd be going out in the battlefield at all, Gia looked pale and shaken, Roman and Ben sent one another silent threats via narrowed glares.

"The fact still remains, none of you are trained well enough," Weaver finally proclaimed, "Sending four incapable fighters into battle is no different than sending one, all it changes is the potential number of lives lost."

"We helped take down a few Skitters during that last battle, sir," Roman protested.

"I'll go with Ben," a voice suddenly spoke, and another hush fell throughout the crowd. No one had noticed the boy hovering a few yards from the meeting, and he seemed to magically materialize from the shadows, stepping forward and locking eyes with the captain, "I'm not very adept with a gun, but I do know how to shoot, and I'm more than capable of fighting a Skitter hand-to-hand."

"Rick, you've never been in battle before," Weaver noted, though it was obvious the teen's offer softened him more significantly on the idea of sending a unit to take down the alien structure than Roman's had.

"And I will never wish to again, but as everyone, including you, sir, has made clear, we have no other options," Rick replied, earnest in his near mechanical monotone.

"In absence of any other plan, this seems the best one, true, but, Rick, I'm not entirely convinced that sending you…"

"He's faster and he's stronger than me," Ben hastily pointed out, "You're the one who said me and Rick together in battle was the most ideal situation."

Weaver sighed, hands on hips and head tipped down. Jimmy's stomach dropped and a triumphant smirk flittered across the corner of Ben's lip.

"Captain…" Hal began warningly.

"Okay," Weaver relented, peering up and darting looks between both Rick and Ben, "I'll give you boys three hours to assess the situation out by that structure, try not to use them all, if bringing it down is a possibility then, and only then, will I send you back out with intent to destroy. In the meantime, Dai, I need all units to fall back to base and tighten ranks. Anthony, choose three fighters. I need you to probe a way out of here if news on the structure is sour. Everyone dismissed. Ben, Rick, prep for your mission and meet me in my office in ten."

Reluctantly, fighters broke into groups and went off to carry out Weaver's instructions.

"Jimmy…I…" Ben stammered, searching for some way to apologize and explain the things he'd said during the meeting, but Jimmy turned abruptly from him and strode the direction of the unharnessed four. Ben moved to follow but a hand on his arm brought him to a halt.

"We don't have time," Rick told Ben sternly, "Settle it when we're in a safer place."

"There is no such thing as a safer place," Ben remarked, eyes lingering on Jimmy approaching Roman, the older boy perking noticeably at the sight of the younger.

Ben turned for his tent and Rick didn't reply to his comment.

"Why did you volunteer to come?" Ben demanded, striding swiftly inside of his tent, the other boy following a few paces behind, "You avoid battle like the plague, and that structure is closer to the signal. You know that, don't you?"

"I'm aware."

Of course he was, Ben thought bitterly. Rick always knew more than anyone else, yet he never gave anything away.

"Well didn't you say you planned on staying as far away from that signal as you possibly could?" Ben retorted hotly, digging through his belongings for his knives, handguns, and rifle. He didn't know why he felt so angry with Rick; after all, if it weren't for Rick, Weaver never would've agreed to let Ben go after the alien structure.

"Yes and given current circumstances, that structure is as far as I possibly can stay from that signal," Rick replied coolly, "I won't lie, I'm concerned about it, Ben, but I'm more concerned about you."

Ben faltered, pausing and glaring at his belongings in his duffle. He thought to bring the first aid kit, but he could move faster without it. Hell, he could move faster without his rifle.

"What does that mean?" Ben demanded.

"The 'blackouts'," Rick reminded Ben, "Are you sure that getting closer to that signal is the right option?"

"You think the signal has something to do with the blackouts or the visions or whatever the hell they are," Ben surmised.

"We both know that it does," Rick returned.

Ben scowled. He left his rifle leaned against his duffle and stood, turning to fix a hard glare on the other boy.

"I don't 'know' half as much as you seem to, so why don't you catch me up, Rick?" Ben seethed. Rick tilted his head to one side, examined Ben a moment, and then wordlessly turned for the tent exit.

"We should go. Weaver is waiting," Rick said.

"No, I need to talk to Jimmy before we go," Ben decided, "I can't leave without…without at least saying I'm sorry."

"It's not important," Rick told him.

"It's important to me," Ben returned sharply, pushing past the other boy and exiting the tent, heading back towards where he'd left Jimmy and the unharnessed four.

…

Somehow, since Ben's calling attention to it, the way Roman lit when Jimmy sauntered over was unmistakable, and a bit unnerving. The four teens were deep in conversation, but all fell silent at Jimmy's appearance. Kelsey ducked behind Roman, Gia and Douglas appraised the younger boy distantly, and Roman stared attentively.

"During the attack, you guys took down a few Skitters?" Jimmy carefully prodded. He'd felt a strange surge of pride at that revelation during the meeting.

"We helped with a few," Douglas corrected.

"I even put a few bullets in some of the creepy crawlers," Roman proclaimed, puffing his chest out and grinning lopsided, "Definitely caught some of the other fighters by surprise when we didn't turn tail and run with the civilians."

"That's good," Jimmy determined, smirking and quietly noting, "You probably earned respect during the meeting too, volunteering to head out into battle with Ben. Only way you guys'll ever make it into the ranks as real fighters is if you can earn the right level of respect."

"Earned respect? Made us look like fools, more like. Weaver didn't want to send us out there, he announced to everyone that we weren't good enough," Gia muttered.

"No. He only said you aren't ready yet," Jimmy retorted sharply, then murmured, "And he said I wasn't good enough. There's a difference"

They all fell silent a moment, and Jimmy kicked at the dirt a bit, knocking off some mud clinging to the side of his boot.

"You guys just need a little more training," Jimmy continued softly, "And a little more battle experience before Weaver can send you out on the harder missions. And he will, eventually."

"What about you?" Roman asked, Jimmy and his friends glancing up oddly at him, "If Weaver said you aren't good enough, well, Ben basically said as much too. You're really just going to take that."

"Why wouldn't I? It's the truth," Jimmy said quietly, "I can handle myself in battle, sure, but sooner or later Ben needs someone who he can rely on as much as they rely on him. I weigh him down and we both know that."

"Not the way it looks from where I'm standing," Gia gently intonated, and Jimmy darted a stunned look at her, taken aback by the sentiment.

"You were the one who saved us in that shopping center," Roman agreed, "If it had been left up to Ben, we'd all be dead."

"That's not true," Jimmy bit out protest when he found his voice again, "He screwed up because of me, because he felt he needed to take care of me and…that's the only reason…"

"He screwed up because he didn't care about the rest of us," Kelsey whispered plaintively from behind Roman, peeking around the older boy and saying, "But you did, care about us. And you saved us."

Nearing footfalls caused the five teenagers to fall silent, and Jimmy turned round, swallowing down his emotions when his eyes landed on Ben with Rick standing at his shoulder. He knew the expression on Ben's face, and before the other boy could ask, Jimmy started away, gestured for him to follow. Ben shot Rick a meaningful look, and Rick stayed put with the other four unharnessed teenagers as Ben and Jimmy slipped off several yards away, ducking behind a trailer.

"About what I said…" Ben began tentatively, but Jimmy quickly silenced him, dragging him forward by his shirt into a firm kiss.

"I'm not speaking to you, asshole," Jimmy growled when they momentarily broke apart, then he caught Ben in another kiss that Ben returned in fervor, pressing Jimmy back against the trailer and plunging his tongue into Jimmy's mouth.

They parted again, breathless and Jimmy touched their foreheads together, searching Ben's eyes.

"Be careful," he said, then roughly pushed Ben away, stalking around the trailer and up towards the community center.

Ben sighed, delicately smeared away the saliva from his lip with his thumb, and returned to Rick.

"Let's go," he muttered, and side-by-side they headed for Weaver's.

* * *

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A/N: I feel like there were things I needed to rewrite in this chapter...oh well, I have homework to do. There you go, the return of Rick with odd tidbits of conversation and a somewhat touching "good-bye" from a disgruntled Jimmy.

Let me know what you guys think! Dang it, I need breakfast. My dad's girlfriend wants to read some of my fanfiction...I'm not entirely sure what to share with her...probably not anything from this series. I don't know why she wants to read the fanfic stuff, I have original things I'd much rather share.

Reviewers: NOxONE, thank you! That's true, Ben doesn't really have much emotional spilling. School's going well, thank you! I'll do my best. SassySavanna190, UGH, I KNOW, EVERYTHING IS JUST WORKING AGAINST BEN AND JIMMY! Sorry, I wanted to write in all caps too. :) Mr. Mason will be coming back soon, no worries, tho I'm not sure how much ass kicking he'll be doing. And...yeah..."Karen". Hm...but wasn't Hal's going outside to fight the full force of the alien assault, in a sense, also a form of protecting Matt? Oh, don't cry! Or maybe do...I like making people cry, because I'm a bully. Kidding! Only kidding. Or am I? Cookie97, Ben does have Jimmy, and, yeah, sometimes it's nice to end on a sweet note. Or a bittersweet note. And then sometimes it's thrilling to end with them fighting. Maybe that last one is just me? Haley, I've been wondering where you were! I'm sorry to hear you were sick, glad you were feeling well enough to drop in. Yeah, I am a bit of a tease...I can't help it, it's fun for me. There will be some smut coming though, and lots (eh...a decent amount, I think, maybe not for some people) coming up later in the story to make up for all the lost times early on. Guest, I know, sorry. Yeah...there will be more smut, I promise. Eventually. :D. WhisperMaw! Ah...well, that is a little more than a couple things, awesome. a) No problem. b) I miss your analyses. c) Thanks for letting me know! I'm glad to hear it. I wish I could be angry about the not reviewing part, but being an expert at super lazy, I guess I don't have room to talk. d) Odd that the real reason you're here is to tell me about how flipping good another fic is, though I find it incredibly flattering that, apparently when you find great stories you think of me. It's always awesome when you find something amazing to read through all of the piles of mediocre on here, not that there isn't an abundance of great on this site, there's just an overabundance of not so great drowning it all. Hm...wow, way to make me realize I've been posting on this site for 9 years...sheesh. No, it wouldn't have been me, I don't co-author stories. Don't play well with others, you see...it's also why I never got into MMO's. Sass? Me? Gosh, never! Oh, I've developed ulcers long ago. You're fabulous too, dear, stop in once in awhile to let me know you're still feeling entertained, please?

See you guys all next Sunday! I need breakfast...


	37. Chapter 37

A/N: Thank you to the reviewers, you guys are awesome!

And thank you to Greg for beta-ing.

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XXXVII.

The idea of being in battle without Jimmy certainly wasn't appealing to Ben in any way, but there was definitely something freeing about racing at a breakneck pace through the streets with Rick running astride him. Their movements were near synchronous, it was almost as though they'd choreographed and rehearsed the journey for weeks prior to taking it. They paused simultaneously at the sound of enemy, ducked for cover in the same fluid motion, attacked with the same silent precision and cool mercilessness, and then took up their run again without a single word or glance to one another.

Getting out of the community center and its surrounding neighborhood proved challenging. Just as the scouts had reported, the 2nd Mass was surrounded on all sides. Enemy troops were thick in parts, and it was clear a greater force was preparing for assault. Ben and Rick didn't exchange comment or concern on the matter, slinking through the streets and cutting through the bramble of undeveloped landscapes as often as possible in their jaunt.

Being able to hear better and move swifter than any human, both boys were adept at stealth when the enemy was human. But it was far more difficult to be stealthy against an enemy that could hear as well and move as swiftly, if not more so, than themselves. They knew without a shadow of a doubt that if they could hear Skitters, then the Skitters could and probably did hear them.

Ben and Rick relied on the enemy being distracted by the 2nd Mass's actions, determining to call as little attention to themselves as possible while on the move. They tried to avoid fights, going the long way around when possible to avoid Skitters, and opting for knives over guns when necessary. They didn't approach Mechs at all, taking down a Mech required explosives, the detonation of which would bring every enemy troop for miles around down on them.

It took them far longer than Ben liked to reach the downtown city district where the alien mass was located, and they paused on its fringe to check themselves for any severe injuries and assess the area, getting an enemy count and trying to figure out their next route. Despite the troops gathering around the 2nd Mass, there were still a massive number of enemy units on the alien structure. From the sounds of things, a flock of Skitters had already noted Ben and Rick's approach and were already on their way to intercept the boys.

The signal was stronger than it had been last time Ben was there. He exchanged a look with Rick, and from the other boy's eyes could tell that he noticed the signal's growing strength as well.

Ben readied his knife at his side and prepped to move, but Rick grabbed hold of his arm and jerked his head back the way they'd come. Ben turned, scoured the horizon, tilted his head to the side and focused on the sounds farthest in the distance but they were too far from the 2nd Mass for him to hear anything back at camp, and he couldn't hear anything out of the ordinary as far as he could hear. Rick, however, clearly took note of something, his head cocked to one side and expression grim. When he noticed Ben's confusion, he used one of the hand signals that 2nd Mass fighters used in battle, Ben wasn't aware Rick knew any, tapping two fingers of his right hand against the top of his left forearm: _attack_.

Ben's heart staggered to a dead standstill, as he gaped into the distance, mildly aware that Rick had moved to face off against three Skitters that had bounded upon them. The signal was used to inform other fighters to start attacking, but Rick meant the 2nd Mass was under attack. They'd been gone only about an hour, the full force of Skitters couldn't have decided to attack in that short an amount of time, what's more, at the fortuitous moment when the two so-called "super soldiers" were finally too far away from the camp to be able to return and be of any help during the fight.

Another Skitter entered the scene and Ben shook from his stun, running into the fray. Together, they barely slaughtered the four Skitters, and then took off running down one of the streets. They darted into an alley, nearly running headlong into another cluster of Skitters. Rick sprinted at the six-legged beasts, screaming an impromptu battle cry, jumped and used the brick wall of one building side for leverage, bounced off the edge of a dumpster that went spiraling across the alley at the force of his kick, and flew through the air, latching onto the first overhang of one building's fire escape, easily tugging himself onto its ledge with his one handed grip.

Ben baulked at the maneuver, Weaver was seriously worried about Rick's lack of experience in battle? A few of the Skitters broke off from the group to scramble right up the wall in hot pursuit. The rest spun on Ben. He swallowed hard, taking a few steps back, squatting down to remove the other knife from his boot, and flick its blade out, it clicked and locked into place, so that he now held a knife in each hand. He let his breath out slow, eyeing the seven or eight Skitters now barreling towards him and braced for their impact.

…

Ben and Rick had been gone nearly half an hour when Jimmy spotted the four unharnessed teens heading for the edge of camp, armed each with a rifle and extra clip apiece. He didn't want to know where they'd gotten the armaments from, Dai was manning the weapons truck at that moment and he never would have gifted those four with the seventy-five round clips. Jimmy himself had barely been able to talk Dai into giving him one of the ninety round clips and a pack of five Mech-piercing bullets, and he was arguably one of the best shots in the 2nd Mass, apparently there was debate about whether he should be on the frontlines in the impeding battle.

"Where the hell do you guys think you're going?" Jimmy demanded in a rough hiss, stalking up to the four and darting quick looks over his shoulder in search of a higher ranking fighter that he could call attention to, but they were conveniently tucked out of sight from the community center behind one of the larger vans in the parking lot.

"Where do _you_ think we're going?" Roman returned with a self-satisfied smirk at Jimmy, and as each of the four looked at Jimmy with expectant eagerness a sudden realization dawned on him. They'd made it awfully easy for him to spot them crossing the camp, yet somehow remained unseen by anyone else.

"No," Jimmy said firmly, shaking his head, "No way. Not happening. Turn around, all of you; we're heading back to camp right now."

"Oh, come on, Jimmy, they're not going to put us to any use here," Douglas cried, "They've already shafted us to the civilian guard detail inside of the community center. We aren't going to see any action in there…"

"They did that for a reason," Jimmy seethed, "None of you are prepared for this battle. You can't make a single headshot, Dougie, you're lucky if you get a body shot on a Skitter."

"I hit plenty of Skitters during that attack," Doug returned indignantly.

"So did I," Gia piped up, hugging her rifle to herself.

"What about you?" Roman pointed out, "You can more than make a single headshot, brat, at least that's what everyone says, right? And where did they place you for this upcoming battle royale?"

"That's not important," Jimmy said shortly. It was obvious they already knew he'd been assigned to civilian babysitting, why give them the gratification of hearing him say it himself.

"They stuck you inside, too, didn't they?" Roman laughed cruelly, then narrowing his eyes on the younger boy and gritting out, "This is bullshit. We are just as capable as those two razorbacks, and more trustworthy, but Weaver sends them out there? Puts the fate of our entire group in their hands? They're probably out there selling us out to the aliens as we speak."

"Shut up," Jimmy growled, "Real danger is barreling down on us, Ben and Rick are out there in a world of danger you couldn't even imagine risking their lives to save the 2nd Mass, and you want to have a pissing contest right now? You four are idiots. Take those clips back to Dai so he can hand them out to real fighters and get inside the community center like your superior ordered you to."

"We know more about danger than you realize," Kelsey spoke up, her voice clear and fine edged. She stood with her chin jutted out, her shimmering eyes boring a hole into Jimmy, "And we intend to go to that alien structure, whether you join us or not."

Jimmy opened his mouth to protest, closed it when he couldn't find the right argument, glared at Kelsey and said earnestly, "You're all going to get yourselves killed."

"Not if you come with us," Gia noted, "You took care of us in the shopping complex..."

"We all almost died in that grocery store," Jimmy retorted, shaking his head at them emphatically, "I'm not going. I can't stop any of you, obviously, but…you guys are making a big mistake."

"Suit yourself," Kelsey remarked, leading the way to a red pickup. They all began climbing inside and Jimmy gaped at them, when a Mech cry cut through the air.

"Fuck," Jimmy spun round, rifle ready, and caught sight of a stream of Skitters racing towards the center, most of them falling as a slew of bullets ripped through them from the frontline.

Several Skitters burst out nearby, racing towards Jimmy and the four clambering into the truck. In their current location, they were too exposed, out in the open and cut off from the rest of the 2nd Mass. There was no way Jimmy or any of them could get back to the community center and behind the barricade the group had spent the day erecting before a Mech or a flock of Skitters ran them down. Running being pointless, Jimmy opened fire, taking down a few, though more sprang up to take their place. One leapt over the truck, and Jimmy tossed himself to the ground out of the way, scrambling to move out of reach from the raking grasp of another, he felt the pierce of yet another Skitter's claws bite into his ankle, and spun round to put a bullet in its head.

"Jimmy, dammit, get in the truck," Douglas yelled, he and Gia opening fire on the Skitters and actually managing to take a few down. It was easier said than done, there were three Skitters on him, more on the way, and he was scrambling to get his rifle into position for a good shot while still attempting to defend himself from the reaching claws and kicking legs.

Roman leapt into the fight, shooting one of the Skitters at point blank and driving another off using his rifle like a club, which Jimmy finished with a clean head shot. Roman grabbed hold of Jimmy by the collar, dragging him onto his feet and towards the truck and together they jumped into the bed. Kelsey, behind the wheel, set the truck careening out onto the street and they all opened fire, taking out any enemy they passed along the way, and using the truck like a ram to bust through the units.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Jimmy spat out when they were finally out of sight of the attacking enemy, bracing himself against the truck bed and examining his leg. The Skitter claw had torn into his lower calf and made tiny puncture holes at the top of his ankle, and it was bleeding profusely. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to put much weight on it. Gia tossed him the knapsack the four apparently had the good sense to pack for their trip, and he dug out some first aid materials, cleaning and wrapping the injury best he could.

"Looks like you're coming with us after all, brat," Roman grinned and Jimmy offered him the darkest, most scathing glare he could manage against the searing pain of his leg.

"Turn this fucking truck around," Jimmy roared, though his voice was muted by the whip of wind lashing around them, "The 2nd Mass is under attack, they need us there!"

"They sure as fuck didn't seem to think so," Roman bellowed back.

"They didn't stick us inside the community center because they don't need us," Jimmy argued, "They put us where we would be the most help. Our being there could make the difference between lives lost and lives saved…"

"You really expect us to believe that shit," Douglas shouted, darting an apologetic look at a raging Gia, "They put us in the center to keep us out of the way, so that the 'real' fighters didn't have to worry about babysitting us during the battle."

"That's bull," Jimmy retorted, though he didn't even sound convinced, his heart sputtering pathetically against his chest.

Weaver hadn't put him on any planned attacks since the warehouse, and there had been plenty arranged, but after the shopping center Weaver had treated Jimmy like an invalid, giving him the next day off, pushing him onto Anthony and Dai after the ambush the night before, and then proclaiming in front of every 2nd Mass fighter that morning that he wouldn't put Jimmy in battle, as though Jimmy were some worthless child – well, wasn't that exactly what he was? – And then Ben had to go and agree. Ben's words echoed in Jimmy's mind: _I don't want him out there with me..._

Fuck, why didn't Ben just plunge a knife into Jimmy's gut, it would've hurt a hell of a lot less.

Jimmy crawled to the front of the truck bed and tapped the rear view window, gesturing at Kelsey in the truck to pull over. She shook her head at him and he pounded his fist against the glass, insistent. She skidded the truck over to the side, gravel and rock kicking up out from under its tires.

Jimmy jumped from the truck bed, motioning for the others to follow, tapping the driver side window in passing as he stalked up the road. The others exchanged confused looks then reluctantly leapt from the bed in line, Kelsey kicking the driver door open, hopping out, and they all hurried to follow after.

"Brat, what the hell are you doing?" Roman called, as they quickly caught up.

"We drive that truck into the city, we might as well announce our arrival through a bullhorn," Jimmy grumbled, "The Skitters'll be on us in a heartbeat, and we'll be dead in another. We walk the rest of the way."

"Getting there will take forever," Douglas complained.

"You guys wanted me to come, well I'm coming, but here's the deal, I'm senior, you do as I say," Jimmy continued, "I say we ditch the truck, then we ditch the truck. It won't take us forever, more like twenty minutes, more if you drag your feet, less if you pick up the fucking pace. We're only a mile and a half away."

For several minutes, Jimmy trekked in silence as the four whispered amongst one another at his back. The guilt weighing heavy inside of Jimmy at having left the 2nd Mass during a battle was nothing compared to the knowledge that he was willfully walking away from a direct order, to stand guard in the community center, from the captain.

Part of Jimmy had been alright with his assignment for the assault, especially after his conversation with Ben in the tent the night before about Matt being alone during that first attack. Maybe being shafted to civilian babysitting meant he'd lost all of the captain's respect as a fighter, but at least he could be with Matt, provide some sort of protection for the youngest Mason while Hal was on the frontline and Ben was on a guerilla op.

Jimmy glanced over his shoulder at the four trailing behind him and sighed. He'd been regretting his agreement to train those four from the very beginning, but never more so than he did in that exact moment. He expected to teach them to shoot, a few battle formations, hand signals, and then send them on their merry way to run high-end ops with their fellow super soldier, Ben, but never once had he suspected that this would be the turn of events, him leading them half-trained to crash Ben's high-end op with fellow, far more impressive, yet incredibly unwilling super soldier Rick.

"Why are you all so desperate to go to that alien structure?" Jimmy wondered and received silence in response. He glanced over his shoulder at the four. They were exchanging looks. He faltered, turned to glare at them warily, "Why are we going to that structure?"

"Notoriety," Kelsey spoke up, blanking her expression, "Grand gesture to earn acceptance amongst the group."

"Is that right," Jimmy drawled sardonic, folding his arms over his chest and surveying the four, "Because it hasn't worked for Ben once, and you four might be idiots, but you're not stupid. You know this won't gain you acceptance amongst the group…"

"Maybe we just want Weaver's acceptance," Roman cut in, "Ever think of that, brat? Why would we care what the everyday layman thinks? We want the fighters to respect us, to want us on the battlefield…"

"Instead of Ben," Jimmy finished for him, looking at them each uncertainly, "What you said, about him being responsible for all of your being harnessed, what did you mean by that?"

"We didn't say he was responsible," Gia protested.

"He _was_," Roman bit out.

"Rome," Kelsey spat warning.

"The brat wants to know the truth about his razorback," Roman growled, "It's time he knew the truth."

"Whatever happened, he was harnessed at the time, he can't be held responsible for what they made him do," Jimmy said, raising his brow at the other boy, "Same as I'm sure you don't want to be held responsible for what they made you do."

"He wasn't wearing a harness when our people found him," Roman muttered.

"It isn't fair that you…wait what?" Jimmy furrowed his brow and darted looks at all of the unharnessed teens.

"Our people found him wandering in the woods, without a harness, crying that he was lost, claiming that he escaped from an alien harnessing facility," Roman seethed, "So our people took him in, fed him, and cleaned him up."

"That doesn't make sense," Jimmy murmured.

"But in the night he snuck up on our guards, slit their throats. He killed most of our people in their sleep even before the aliens came and raided us…"

"You're wrong," Jimmy argued.

"Rome, stop, he doesn't need to know," Douglas whispered.

"I woke up and saw him," Roman seethed, "I watched him jab his knife through a sleeping woman's throat just as the Skitters were arriving."

"Roman, that's enough," Gia hissed.

"You're lying," Jimmy said, gaping at the older boy, "Why would he…he wouldn't…_why_…"

"You wanted to know why I hated him, brat? Well now you know," Roman spat out, "Because he's a two-faced, murdering bastard. You can't trust him."

"The aliens were controlling him another way," Jimmy shot back, "Even if he didn't have a harness on, you have to know that they were controlling him some other way. Ben _would_ never…"

"And using that logic, how do I know they're not still controlling him. How do you?" Roman returned sharply.

"How do I know that they're not controlling you?" Jimmy countered.

"That's a good question," Roman suddenly smirked.

Jimmy faltered, catching his breath. He looked at the four standing across from him, staring him down, shouldering the rifles in their hands, and it struck him then, he had no reason to trust any of them, Roman had already attacked him once, and Ben, who he did trust or professed to trusting anyway, had insisted that they couldn't be trusted, yet somehow he'd ended up alone on the side of the road with them, after being lured away from camp by them during an enemy strike.

Jimmy tightened his grip on his rifle, painfully forcing air in and out of his lungs, as a tiny Ben-like voice whispered in his head: _told you so_.

* * *

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A/N: Glad to see everyone amped up by Rick's appearance. Now Jimmy's in a bit of a pickle.

Gosh, I'm hungry. Thank you for reading, let me know what you think please!

Reviewers: Typhoonboom08, I was so excited for your review, for like a day I didn't feel like I needed any others, because I knew the chapter was good if you were dropping a line. Yeah, Rick's a bit of a softie. He'll be showing up from time to time throughout the story, semi-important role, you know. Honestly, I think all their fights have been grey area, but that's just me. Aw...yeah, Jimmy is the love of his life. SassySavanna190, your name was giving me trouble to type. LOL, another satisfied Rick fan I see. It's difficult to tell who to trust, and yes, Roman certainly had ulterior motives throwing that line in about "only if Jimmy comes". He's not always clear on what cards he's actually holding but he's very intent on playing that royal flush. And now I have to wonder if you know anything about poker and have any clue what that metaphors about...oh well, I'll assume you do. And yes, Hal is definitely motivated by the need to protect his brother, that might change soon, probably around the time Tom reappears, we'll see. Caswiee, I'm glad you think so. I'm not actually all that helpful with the writing, and beyond me, I'm not sure how many people read the reviews either, but yeah, I'll reiterate: **ATTENTION READERS** - Anyone interested in beta-ing a fanfic, its an unofficial sequel to my Christmas alternate reality story "Falling Snow"? If so, please contact Caswiee through her site account for more information! Thank you for your time, now back to your regular programming. Cookie97, that's the best kind of way to love a chapter, maybe, to just feel all warm and fuzzy about it without any reason why. That's true love. I think. I don't know what I'm talking about. I'm glad you loved it though!

That's all folks. See you guys next Sunday. I'm off to eat brunch and drink some champagne.


	38. Chapter 38

A/N: Thank you for the reviews you guys, I have homework to do and must hurry and update!

Thank you to Greg as always for beta-ing, you're awesome. Read and enjoy people.

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XXXVIII.

It took Jimmy several seconds to realize the four teens across from him, readying their rifles, were no longer focused on him but staring past him at something in the distance. He spun round and lifted his own rifle, scouring the horizon for any signs of movement.

"Skitters are coming this way," Douglas whispered, "What should we do…?"

All eyes went to Jimmy.

"Uh…find cover," Jimmy stammered out the obvious, hurriedly leading the way off the side of the road into the trees and bushes.

They ducked into the overgrowth, and waited. It was several more minutes before the Skitters appeared, there were an innumerable mass of them, they flooded by as if beckoned by a Siren's call, and if they heard the five teenagers hiding on the side of the road, they weren't interested. Not a single Skitter broke its stride.

After the last Skitter was out of sight, Jimmy motioned to the others to stay hidden until he gave signal. He mentally counted up to one hundred then back down again five times, then gave a low whistle, and gestured the four gather near.

"I don't know what that was about…I really hope those Skitters weren't headed for the 2nd Mass, but we need to stay off the roads in case more are coming," he whispered to them, "Follow my lead, stay close. We're going to move at thirty count sprints, meaning count to thirty as you sprint, take cover in between, I'll signal when to move again. If any of you hear anything, hoot like an owl."

"Hoot like an owl? Lame," Doug muttered and Gia smacked his shoulder.

"Let's move," Jimmy told them, rolling his eyes. If this 'mission' didn't get him killed, it would be a fucking miracle.

The four teens apparently had the Skitter gifted grace and athletic ability, not so much as breaking a sweat during their quick pace, though Jimmy was haggardly gasping for air by the end of the run, he really did need to quit smoking, and a bead of sweat across his brow despite the chilly weather. Sprinting in bursts got them to their target in five minutes less time than Jimmy predicted, and they only had to hide from one more slightly smaller rush of Skitters along the way, though it took them over half an hour from when they'd left the truck.

"Where do we go now?" Roman wondered, as they crept through the streets of the downtown district on high alert, rifles at ready.

"We should go to the top of one of these buildings," Jimmy suggested, gesturing to some of the taller structures around them, "From a roof, we should be able to get the lay of the land and find that alien structure."

They picked out one of the tallest buildings nearby and Jimmy led the way inside, and up the stairs. He instructed the four not to discharge their weapons unless they absolutely had to, the sound of gunfire would announce their presence if the Skitters weren't already aware of them.

The building was twelve stories and they had to climb the stairs. By the time they reached the roof access, Doug and Roman were obviously wearing down, each having the most bulk to carry around, and all of them were slightly exhausted and breathless, their earlier sprint starting to catch up to them. Gia and Doug were left to watch the door while Jimmy, Roman, and Kelsey crossed the roof to opposite ends, studying the landscape.

Spotting the alien structure was easy, it was large and its translucent surface glistened golden against the high noon sun. Jimmy used the scope of his rifle to map out a path towards the structure, and get an enemy count. He scowled, catching sight of an odd mass of Skitter movement, stopping, and doubling his scope back to get a better look at what the chaos was about.

There seemed to be a cluster of Skitters gathered down one alleyway, and more rushing to the location. Jimmy attempted to count the enemy, stopping somewhere short of fourteen when he caught sight of a flash of black cloth splattered in crimson and the all too familiar movements of a heart-wrenchingly battered figure.

…

Skitter body parts rained from the sky, Rick wrestling with his pursuers overhead, as Ben struggled against his own opponents on the ground. He felled one Skitter, slashing the blade in his right hand clear across the back of its neck, only to be tossed across the alleyway into a brick wall by another. He landed squat on the ground, and rolled out of the way of another attacking Skitter. He lashed out with the blades in each of his hands, clumsy with his left and graceful with the right, attempting to sever Skitter legs at the joint.

A whole Skitter fell half-dead with a sickening thud behind Ben and he staggered forward in surprise, swept off his feet by another Skitter and slammed back into the wall, the spikes in his back ripping partway through the fabric of his t-shirt and chipping away red brick on impact. The Skitter's claws dug into his shoulder and he gasped in pain or startle, it was difficult for him to tell those days when he felt numb to most things. He drove one blade straight through the Skitter arm holding him in place and as it screamed surprise he drove his other knife into its mouth and back through its throat, its warm blood spilling out over his arm.

Another Skitter was on Ben before he'd even pushed the dead Skitter body aside, and he struggled to dodge its blows, stumbling back into another couple Skitters, as Rick's last Skitter pursuant dropped dead to the ground onto another Skitter, Rick following it with his knife poised to strike, landing on that other Skitter, stunned by the blow of its dead fellow, and dead within moments by the knife of the boy landing on its back.

One of the Skitters wrestled Ben to the ground, and he slashed away three of its legs, before severing a claw and plunging his knife up through its chin. He staggered to his feet and stumbled back to back with Rick, a slew of Skitters circling round them on the street and crawling up the walls.

"There's too many of them," Ben gasped, he didn't recall so many Skitters being here last time, and getting through the streets had been so easy before, it was almost as though this time they'd been ready and expecting him and Rick, and he couldn't help wondering with a sour taste like bile in the back of his throat, if sneaking off on those intel ops, leaving dead Skitters lying around, might be the reason for such a heavy, alert force waiting.

Ben spat a blood clot to the ground and rushed at one side of the Skitter circle as Rick leapt towards the other. Ben's knives slashed and flurried, he dropped several Skitters, losing his left blade in the process. He was slammed around, claws ripped into his flesh, blood and sweat mingled on his brow. He caught glimpses of Rick out of the corner of his eye; the other boy was faring better than himself, but just barely. They would be overwhelmed in a minute or so.

Again, Ben slammed against a wall, his feet tugged out beneath him and the back of his skull cracked against the ground, ringing in his ears. He struggled against the onslaught, striking with his fist and legs, and jabbing out with his blade where he could. He reached for his handgun at his side, the gunfire would only attract more Skitters and possibly Mech, he knew, but he was growing desperate as blood seeped into his eyes, blurring his vision, a Skitter claw on his throat, its body heavy on his chest, crushing the air from his lungs.

The world was darkening and, for a split of a second, Ben thought of Jimmy.

Through the blur of pain and mess of reaching Skitter claws, soft smile flitted across Ben's bloodied lip, as the other boy flashed into mind: a shy smile, a dark scowl, a hot kiss and a warm body relaxed in Ben's arms.

Somehow, even though rationally Ben knew Jimmy was miles away back at camp fighting against a full-force alien assault, he felt as though Jimmy were near, as if an angel guarding Ben from above. There was a strange comfort in the feeling, it put Ben at ease, and somehow, he felt he could close his eyes, drift away, and everything forevermore would be okay. In his mind was Jimmy and he was at peace.

Kap-pa-Squick.

Skitter brain splattered into Ben's face as the head of the Skitter holding him down burst into bits. Seconds later, another Skitter's head popped, and then another and another. Ben tightened his clasp on his knife, struggling to his feet as the Skitters around him scrambled in surprise at the sudden attack from nowhere.

Seemingly rejuvenated by whatever miracle was occurring, Ben and Rick gained their second wind, adrenaline kicking hard through their veins, and they slashed, sliced, and slaughtered the beasts around them with a sudden ease. Ben recovered his second knife, wielding it with an adeptness he didn't have before, as Skitters dropped at random.

Moments later, most of the Skitters were dead, others were retreating or scurrying in search of the gunman who, concernedly, had stopped firing several tens of seconds prior. Ben wiped the blood – a mix of his and Skitters', slick and warm, from his eyes with his sleeve and glanced at Rick, both of them listening intently for the location of their savior.

When they'd located him, they didn't bother exchanging a single word or glance, darting down the street at a breakneck pace. Skitters and Mechs were already converging on the location of their would-be rescuer, from the sounds of things there were several guns going off, though the pacing of the bullets that had saved Ben and Rick moments before had suggested only one sniper.

They came upon the building, a few dead Mech collapsed on the street, Skitters scrambling up the staircase inside, and, pulling out their handguns, keeping a knife out in the opposite hand, they began shooting and hacking a path to the top.

Ben couldn't say he was surprised to find Jimmy at the other end of the stairs attempting to shoot his way down, there were only a few members of the 2nd Mass that could've made those kinds of shots moments before, though Ben was a little furious to see the four teenagers that were with Jimmy. Together, the seven teenagers barely managed to kill a pathway through the thick of enemies, rushing down the stairs and out into the open street, firing on oncoming Skitter and a couple more Mech the entire way.

"Come on, this way," Ben called at the head of their party, racing down a street and round the first right corner, as he began to recall the geography of the surrounding area.

The streets twisted and wound before them, and Ben sprinted seemingly at random round corners and cut through narrow alleys, they clambered over a fence, burst straight through several stores, in the back door and out the front, then cut into another building and though they'd seemingly lost the enemy, as precaution they barricaded themselves into the small, dead freezer of an abandoned restaurant to get their bearings straight. It reeked of rotting foods, must, mildew, and stale refrigeration chemicals.

Immediately, Jimmy was at Ben's side with a knapsack, digging out first aid kit items: gauze, iodine, bandages, some of which he passed off to Rick.

"Why the fuck are you here, Jimmy?" Ben demanded, gaping at the other boy in angry disbelief.

"You're welcome for saving your life," Jimmy muttered in return.

Ben sighed, the adrenaline from battle abruptly fizzling out and leaving behind nothing but fatigue and distant aches. He grabbed ahold of Jimmy by the shoulders and dragged him forward into a hard kiss. Most of the others averted their eyes, shifted awkwardly, Roman made a face, and Rick just stared apathetically at the two boys.

"Ben," Jimmy groaned, pushing Ben away and darting wary looks at their company, he muttered, "You're covered in blood and Skitter gunk."

"So…then…probably…don't do…this?" Ben swiftly wrapped Jimmy in a tight embrace, sure to smash him against the bloodiest, goriest parts of his body.

"Gah…ack…get off, Ben," Jimmy cried, struggling out of Ben's grasp and attempting to wipe some of the transferred ichor from himself. He jabbed Ben in the side, "Why do you always…ugh…gross…you are such a jerk!"

Ben grinned proudly at the other boy, the adrenaline from their recent battle, now that they were somewhat 'safe', beginning to turn into excited restlessness, which had more than a little to do with Jimmy's miraculous appearance. He absently rubbed the spot where Jimmy's fist had connected, peeling his shirt away to start working on cleaning some of the most severe injuries.

"I really am happy to see you," Ben admitted sheepishly, "Considering moments ago I thought I'd never see you or anyone for that matter ever again..."

"Why are you all here though?" Rick questioned. His eyes bore into the unharnessed four. Some of them had been watching Ben and Jimmy's exchange with mild amusement and they shook to attention at Rick's stern voice.

Jimmy attempted to help Ben clean his injuries, pausing only briefly to glance at the other four teens curiously. He'd asked the same question before but their answer hadn't exactly been satisfactory, he got distracted arguing with Roman, and then they all ended up hiding from the stampede of Skitters heading, most likely, for the 2nd Mass.

"That's not your business," Roman growled warning. Ben faltered in wrapping a bandage around his side to fix a glare of his own on the older boy, letting Jimmy finish tying the bandage off.

"Actually it is our business," Ben retorted sharply, "It's our op that you and your friends are here jeopardizing."

"Jeopardizing…? We just saved your sorry asses and the op, last I checked," Roman shot back.

"No, Jimmy saved us," Ben returned, and Jimmy flushed somewhat at the intonation, "Because I find it hard to believe that a guy who can barely hit a Skitter from twenty feet away suddenly developed the ability to expertly snipe a Skitter almost a hundred yards away."

"Of course, Jimmy wouldn't even be here if it weren't for us," Douglas quietly mentioned.

Ben perked a brow at that, glancing down at Jimmy silently taping gauze to his side. That brought the conversation back to the very interesting question of why were those four teenagers there and, more importantly, why was Jimmy with them?

"They were coming here one way or another…" Jimmy stammered explanation, "I didn't actually…intend…to come…it just sort of turned out that way."

"I saved his life," Roman proclaimed proudly.

"Skitters attacked camp…I was out in the open," Jimmy clarified, shrugging, "He drove some of them off me, we got in the truck and took off…"

"You left camp during the attack," Rick noted just as Ben demanded, "Why were you out in the open?"

"Like I said, I didn't intend to leave. Kelsey was driving, I had no control over where we were going," Jimmy insisted, and darted a dangerous look at the four, "I was out in the open because I saw them leaving and went to stop them when the Skitters attacked."

"Okay, I see…so you saved his life from the danger you put him in, in the first place, you asshole," Ben seethed, reeling on Roman again.

Roman shrugged, said nothing, and actually looked almost abashed about the accusation.

"It isn't important why we're here," he grumbled, "We just are and we can't exactly get back to camp. There are Skitters everywhere outside of this door, and they've got camp overrun..."

"Overrun," Ben repeated, stunned, he turned to Jimmy, "How bad was it? How bad did things look?"

Jimmy shrugged, eyes downcast, and voice appropriately solemn, "There were a lot of Skitters…Mechs…I didn't see much but they were hitting us hard."

"My brothers…?"

"Matt was barricaded inside the community center with the rest of the civilians, Hal was at the head of the defense line," Jimmy answered, "They pulled the perimeter pretty tight around that building but Weaver wants getting the civilians out of there priority one. The 2nd Mass should be fine with the first wave…"

"Fire wave?" Rick interjected, brow perked.

"We came across two more packs of Skitters on our way here," Douglas explained, "We had to hide in the bushes…I got thorns in places you don't want to know about."

"It's pretty clear they intend to take out the 2nd Mass today," Rick stated calmly.

"We have been hammering them hard this past month," Roman noted, Kelsey sidling up next to his side.

"Not really," Jimmy scoffed, "We're more like a pesky fly they finally decided to swat."

"Shit," Ben murmured, shaking his head, "We need to get back to camp. Coming out here was a stupid idea…"

"No, it wasn't. It was smart," Jimmy returned gently, "If we had more time…"

"Which we didn't from the start and Weaver knew it…I really thought that I could…" Ben mumbled, balling his hands in fists at his side and glaring at the floor, "And now my brothers are pinned down and we're pinned down…"

"Why go back? Why don't we continue with the mission?" Roman suddenly suggested.

Everyone turned their attention on him.

"At the meeting, they said they thought the enemy retreated after the warehouse, because one of those things…that structure thing that's here…was in the warehouse and you destroyed it, right, brat?" Roman continued, Ben snorting softly at the 'brat' comment but remaining silent and seemingly placid, "If they're right, destroying the one here may be the only way to save the 2nd Mass."

"He's got a point," Rick said.

"We don't have anything on us to destroy it with," Ben argued, "Weaver just sent us here to see if we could destroy it."

"By any chance, you idiots didn't think to grab any C4 from the armory when you were lifting those clips and rifles, did you?" Jimmy questioned, folding his arms over his chest and glaring at the unharnessed four. They lowered their eyes and shifted uncomfortably. That would be a 'no'.

"We did pass a hardware store on the way here though," Gia spoke up, and clarified when questioning looks went her direction, "I couldn't help noticing that most of this area wasn't looted, probably got hit hard during the invasion and the bugs settled in en masse…so, most of the stuff in the stores would still be there."

"Jimmy?" Ben glanced a question at the other boy.

"I've never built explosives," Jimmy cried, looking incredulous at the six pairs of imploring eyes suddenly turned on him.

"But you've talked explosives with Dai a lot; you know the basic concept behind it, right?" Ben pressed.

"Yeah…sort of…not really…"

"I've read a lot about making bombs…internet Anarchist's Cookbook type stuff," Douglas supplied awkwardly, receiving a few strange looks. He shrugged, stammering, "I was bullied a lot, was miserable…a little dark, very suicidal…I might've been planning a 'doomsday' at school before the invasion happened…yes, okay, I was that guy."

"Oh, God, Dougie…" Gia murmured, putting a hand over her face and appearing as though she might be sick.

"What? That was long before I met you, Gee, I wouldn't even dream about it now," Douglas whispered insistently to the girl, and she offered him a withered expression.

"So…then Douglas has the knowledge and, Jimmy, you have the experience," Ben continued, "Between the two of you, do you think you guys could build a bomb?"

Jimmy and Douglas exchanged a look, both pale and uncertain.

"Maybe," Jimmy mumbled, turning back to Ben, "But getting the supplies won't be easy and getting to that structure will be even less easy and then finding a place to build the bomb…"

"Not easy. We get it," Roman griped.

"Ben and I can handle gathering the supplies," Rick cut in, "We'll build the bomb here."

"No way," Jimmy cut in, suddenly glancing in alarm at Ben, "You guys nearly got killed out there. We all did. This is ridiculous…"

"And if we don't, we're all dead anyway," Ben replied sharply, then shook his head and grimly remarked, "Everyone is."

The group fell solemnly silent a moment, musing on that thought, then eyes turned one-by-one on Jimmy, waiting expectant. He scowled, groaned inwardly.

"Fine, but we aren't doing this the way Rick said. If we just run out there without planning things out perfect first then we might as well not even bother, we'll be dead before we even get the supplies. We'll only have one fucking shot at this; we need to take whatever precautions we can. First, we need to relocate," Jimmy decided, "And then we need to find a way to that structure before we start building any explosives."

"We should probably get to high ground then," Ben suggested, "A roof somewhere."

"Right," Jimmy agreed, "Then we'll figure out how to get to the hardware store. And then we'll build the explosives…

"We passed a parking garage on the way here," Roman mentioned, "It was five stories, looked like. Maybe there…?"

"No, it'll probably be crawling with Skitters," Jimmy muttered, "And Mechs can access a parking garage real easy. I saw some office building thing on the other roof, it was only about three stories but that'll work...can we get to it?"

"I think I know which one you're talking about," Ben said, "We should be able to reach it cutting through a few alleys…"

"Then…I guess…let's go build a bomb," Jimmy declared, and then murmured incredulously as the others readied to leave, Ben smirking mildly amused at him, "Jesus Christ, I can't fucking believe I'm about to build a bomb…I failed chemistry...twice."

* * *

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A/N: Right. Hah. Homework, breakfast, running. Let me know what you all thought please and thank you!

Reviewers: Typoonboom08, ah, two chapters in a row., awesome! Yeah, they're motivations aren't entirely clear. Glad you really liked the last chapter, hope this one was also to your liking. SassySavanna190, lol, oh you make me laugh, in a good way of course. I'm glad to see you're as emotionally invested in the chapters as ever. Yeah...I hope this chapter belayed some of your fears. Please, don't throw your phone, I don't want you to break it. And that is a good question. Caswiee, I'm sorry...when did you make it obvious?

Ah, so few reviews. Oh well. I'm going to go eat breakfast. See you all...Sunday!


	39. Chapter 39

AN: Happy Saint Patrick's day, people. I will be getting drunk and eating Shepherd's Pie tonight...after I take my midterm.

Thank you for the reviews, everyone. You guys rock.

And a thank you to Greg for beta-ing. He's rocks too.

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XXXIX.

Rick listened at the door for the enemy as Roman and Douglas removed the barricade, Ben going over the route they'd be taking once they left the freezer.

"How's your leg?" Roman quietly questioned Jimmy, receiving a puzzled look from Ben.

"It's fine," Jimmy answered stiffly, darting a small, reassuring smile Ben's direction.

"There are three Skitters inside of the restaurant that we'll need to take care of first," Rick announced, "But most of our route is clear to that building. Skitters have spread themselves out through the area."

"Almost like they've forgotten about us," Roman remarked hopefully.

"Or they're looking for us," Jimmy returned, tone sharp, a reminder that they weren't out of danger yet and to stay alert.

"You've noticed the signal is getting stronger," Rick whispered to Ben, and Ben darted a warning look at him as Jimmy glanced to them in confusion.

"What signal…?"

"It's nothing," Ben hastily excused, "I'll tell you about it later."

Jimmy furrowed his brow, 'later' was becoming his least favorite word for Ben to say, but he let it drop for the time being. There were far more pressing concerns at that moment, like the scores of Skitters waiting outside that freezer door to rip the seven teenagers apart, or the fact he could not for the life of him remember how to convert volumes to liters to ounces and something told him those might be important things to know when mixing ingredients for explosives.

"Now is the best time to move," Ben said, positioning himself by the door with knife pulled, "You five wait here while Rick and I take care of the Skitters inside. We'll let you know when to follow."

Jimmy squirmed, gave a short nod. Roman rolled his eyes, but the four teenagers remained stoically silent. Rick cracked the freezer door open, Ben slipped out first and he hastily followed. They were gone a few minutes, and there wasn't much noise. Jimmy gripped his rifle to himself and listened at the door, while the other four hovered at his back, then Ben returned, peeked inside, and gestured them out.

Outside, Ben took the lead and Rick trailed at their rear. They paused every so often and took cover when they needed to, but tried to keep moving as much as possible. Somewhere in the distance, a Mech's cry could be heard on wind, and thick black smoke rose like a phantom silhouette against the horizon, grim reaper standing guard over a distant battlefield. Jimmy found Ben's eyes once, passing concern and reassurance to one another, and they moved into the next alleyway.

It was along the way that Jimmy first noticed the grates. He faltered in their trot to another alley, eyeing a manhole cover in the middle of the street, then shielding his eyes from the rising sun, trailed his gaze down the block and up to where the alien mass could be seen glinting off the sky.

Ben doubled back, grabbing hold of Jimmy's shoulders and dragging him into the alley just as a Mech crunched onto the scene. The seven ducked around the side of a few large green dumpsters that reeked of decomposing organic materials, urine, waste byproduct, and who-the-fuck knew what else. As they pressed against the dumpster and prayed the Mech walk by without noticing them, Jimmy took hold of Ben's hand and traced into Ben's palm question of how much farther to the office building. Ben responded, signing with his hand, two more alleyways.

The Mech moved on and Ben led them onward, through another alley. They encountered a Skitter, but together Ben and Rick took it down easy, and then they raced across the backend of a building, flipped round a corner into another alley that ran sidelong their target. They tried the first door they came across but it was locked, so they tried the next door. It swung open easy and they all hastened inside.

There was no light inside of the building. Gia fumbled in her knapsack for a flashlight, and Ben removed a tiny Maglite from his pocket. The first thing Gia shined her light on was the half-decomposed face of an elderly woman, yellowing skeleton evident through liquidized skin slipping and melting away, a feast of red bodied maggots and flies wriggling inside of and buzzing over the remains.

Ben and Jimmy scrambled to clamp Gia's mouth shut before she could scream, a small, high-pitched squeak escaping her throat. Roman had to turn away, covering his own mouth and Douglas made a face, but his concerned attentions were instantly on Gia. She swallowed back her fear, taking Douglas's offered hand, and they all shimmied around the slushy remains.

"Looks like this was an apartment complex or something," Jimmy noted quietly, falling in the back of the line with Rick, as Ben led the way through the small corridor.

"Hotel maybe," Douglas responded, tapping the keypad lock on one of the doors they passed.

"Doesn't matter what it was," Gia murmured, tightening her grip on Douglas's hand, and squeezing her eyes shut as they passed by an open room, a dead couple half-charred in the doorway, "It isn't anything anymore."

They all fell silent at that, lost in their own musings and attempting to be alert to any sounds or movement. They climbed the first flight of stairs, and then Ben signaled they stop, Jimmy and Rick joined him at the front of the line.

"There are Skitters higher up," Ben told them in a low voice, Jimmy frowned and Rick didn't look surprised, he'd probably already known, the other four were listening intently, "It doesn't seem like they've noticed us yet but we need to back out now before they do."

Carefully, silently, the group doubled back down the stairs. On the first floor again, Roman growled frustration.

"What are we supposed to do now? Can't we just go up there and wipe the floor with those spiders?" he hissed.

"There are too many for Rick and me to take by hand," Ben answered harshly, "And if we open fire, we'll just attract more."

"Shit," Jimmy muttered, "This is hopeless."

"There are other buildings," Rick pointed out.

"And we just keep wandering around until we find one not infested with Skitters?" Roman challenged, "There aren't that many Skitters upstairs, and we can help. You razorbacks aren't the only ones with abnormal strength or reflexes…we're more than capable…"

"I don't know, Rome," Gia mumbled, "Skitters move a lot faster than…"

"Are you scared now, sis?" Roman grit out, reeling on her, "You used to talk about what you would do if you had the chance on the battlefield and now here's your chance and you're backing down?"

"Lay off, Rome," Douglas growled warning, stepping beside Gia to stare down the other boy, "Bullshitting at camp was just that, bullshitting. We're in over our heads right now and you know it."

"Maybe you two are but Kelsey and I are doing fine," Roman returned sharply, darting a look to the aforementioned girl, but her eyes were fixed on Jimmy.

"What were you looking at earlier?" she wondered.

"What are you talking about earlier? I wasn't looking at anything," Jimmy replied, shifting uncomfortably as the group's focus turned on him.

"Wait, no, she's right…back in the street, you stopped…something caught your attention," Ben recalled, straightening and taking a step closer to Jimmy, "What _were_ you looking at?"

"Nothing…" Jimmy shrugged, "The sewers is all…I just was thinking…that it probably ran through the whole city…probably all the way back to the community center…but it was just that...no big deal."

"The sewers, of course," Ben exclaimed, grinning, "Jimmy, that's brilliant. Why didn't you say anything?"

"The sewers? What about it?" Roman wondered, and the other four looked just as confused.

"We could use the sewers to hide out in, to get to the stores, maybe even get to that structure, and get back to the community center," Ben rambled excitedly.

"Ben…I don't know if…" Jimmy stammered.

"That's insane," Douglas complained, "Sewer systems are incredibly complex, and it's dangerous down there, we wouldn't know how to get around."

"Jimmy would," Ben stated firmly and Jimmy locked eyes with him, dangerous threat and anxious fear playing beneath their clear blue surface, "He spent two months surviving on his own using the sewer system in Dorchester."

"How did you…?" Jimmy started, features screwing into some unreadable emotion.

"Weaver told me," Ben answered apologetically, "I didn't ask…he just did, while we were waiting for news from the warehouse…"

"It doesn't matter," Jimmy murmured, dropping his eyes and shaking his head distractedly, "Doug is right. Sewer system is complicated. I knew Dorchester, I don't know this area. I thought it might be a good last resort option, at best."

"There is a Mech standing ten feet outside of that wall over there, we literally have Skitters on top of us, we have nowhere else to go, the 2nd Mass is under attack as we speak, you don't get anymore last resort than this," Ben argued, emphasizing his points with furious hand gestures.

Jimmy frowned at the ground, gripping his rifle closer to his body, shifting his weight from one foot to the next. When he'd joined the 2nd Mass he'd sworn to himself he wouldn't look back, he wouldn't take that route again.

"Going in the sewers sounds like a bad idea to me," Roman spoke up, "If the Skitters follow us down, we're trapped…"

"Skitters don't go in the sewers," Jimmy said quietly, "I don't know why. They just don't like it." He rolled his eyes and relented, "Okay. Fine. You're right. We have no other choice. Let's do it. Let's take the sewers."

They had to squat in the alley behind the dumpster for several minutes as a Mech thundered by with roughly ten Skitters scurrying along in its wake. Then Ben, Rick, and Roman pried the manhole off the ground. Jimmy scowled into the darkness below, and glanced warily at the super powered teens standing semi-circle around him.

"If your sense of smell is anything like your hearing, you might want to cover that up," Jimmy recommended.

"Actually, we don't smell very well," Rick responded.

Jimmy perked a brow at Ben, a silent challenge: 'if they really ever wanted to compare lists of things they never told one another', and Ben shrugged reply. Jimmy stepped forward, sitting on the edge of the open manhole and expertly swinging himself onto the ladder downward. He took a deep breath before descending.

"Never thought I'd ever have to do this again…" he grumbled, leading the way down into the underground, for once being able to do something with more grace than the six clambering after him. He stepped onto the pathway against the nearest wall, and shuffled uneasily along the tiny cement ledge meant for the use of maintenance workers.

There was a wide canal in the center of the corridor, spanning nearly the girth of the street above, where runoff water collected through drains along the streets and eventually let out into a random lake somewhere. Up along the ceiling, and across the walls, a series of pipes ran through the corridors, racing down the hall as far as the eye could see, and splitting off, turning round corners out of sight. There were towers, sort of like bridges that arched over the canal, with ladders up to them so that maintenance workers could access the pipes.

The old familiar scent, sulfur, mildew and rotting dead things, stung the nose and burned the eyes. Ben, last one to enter the hole, slid the cover back overhead, effectively shutting out all light from above. Jimmy took Gia's flashlight, shined it onto the compass Weaver lent him, attempting to get his bearings straight. The sewer system in Dorchester, all of Boston for that matter, ran on a grid, with manhole openings every fifty square feet. It was an efficient system, especially for traveling, and Jimmy assumed, hoped, most sewers were set up the same way.

For several tens of seconds, Jimmy stood frozen, glaring at the compass in his hands, the past rushing unbidden to the forefront of his mind. In an instant, he was back in Dorchester, and dark things he'd thought long burned from his memory now shuddered through him, screams of terror and blood on his hands. He didn't realize he was shaking, until Ben's hand clasped over his own, the one holding the light, stilling it.

"You okay?" Ben whispered, eyes studying Jimmy concernedly.

"Fine," Jimmy snapped, "Why?"

"Your heart is racing," Ben explained sheepishly. He leaned close, his breath brushing warm against Jimmy's ear, questioning in a voice barely audible, "I know you don't want to talk about it…but…right now…if it's going to be a problem, I need to know, did something bad happen in Dorchester?"

"A lot of bad things happened in Dorchester," Jimmy muttered, squirming away from Ben and striding forward, bitterly remarking, "A lot of bad things happened all over the entire world…that's what happens when the world ends: bad things. Everyone stay close."

Moving at first was slow going, as Jimmy attempted to reacquaint himself with the underground and the others adjusted to the lack of light, the smells, the echoing sounds, and the awkward movement along the small ledge – Doug nearly fell into the canal once, his foot dunking below its surface, and though there wasn't much in it, there was still enough to make everyone cringe. Ben and Rick hovered in the back, exchanging a few words, as the others trekked ahead.

"I remember hearing someone say you were from Dorchester once, didn't think much of it at the time," Roman commented lightly, traveling at Jimmy's heel, quietly musing, "I grew up near there…who knows? Maybe we were neighbors before the invasion."

Jimmy frowned, tersely returned, "I'm not from Dorchester. I just ended up there after the aliens."

Roman fell quiet a moment.

"Oh. I see. What part of Boston were you from then?" he wondered, running a hand across his jaw and noting, "Must have been a tough neighborhood, having to learn to fight the way you do."

"I wasn't much of a fighter before the invasion," Jimmy muttered off-hand, agitatedly instructing, "Quiet, I need to think."

Jimmy paused to dart a look over his shoulder at Ben, the other boy still engrossed in his conversation with Rick. They seemed to be arguing.

"Talking about the signal again," Roman provided.

Jimmy scowled, and turned his attention forward.

"He didn't tell you about it, did he?" Roman continued.

Jimmy faltered again, looking curiously up at Roman, considering the older boy a moment, as his heart rattled around in his ribcage.

"What do you know about it?" he demanded.

"Rome," Kelsey hissed, and Roman made a face, falling back a few paces to walk with the small girl.

Alone at the head of the group, Jimmy felt more than a little out of place being trailed by Kelsey beside Roman, Douglas beside Gia, and Ben with Rick in the back. Sort of like a fifth, or perhaps more appropriately, a seventh wheel. He was just an average, scrawny teenager leading a pack of super soldiers through the sewers. Maybe 'out of place' was an understatement.

Then Ben maneuvered his way to the front, brushing a hand across Jimmy's to gain his attention.

"The hardware store was three blocks west of where we came down into here," Ben remarked, then furrowed his brow and tentatively asked, "Do you know how to get us there?"

"Sure, _now_ you ask me that," Jimmy snapped, growing increasingly irritated by the whole situation, and why the fuck did everyone insist on bothering their reluctant guide – making it clear none of them had any faith in him when they were the ones who forced him down that ladder in the first fucking place – while he was trying to guide them? "You don't think it might've been smarter to find out if I knew how to get us there _before_ we climbed down into this shit hole?"

"I'm…sorry?" Ben murmured uncertainly, examining the other boy, "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I said I'm fine. Stop asking," Jimmy griped, "Look, okay, we just walked our first block. We'll go around the second corner up ahead, and hopefully find an exit down it, should put us on the street where the hardware store is at."

"How do you know how many blocks we've gone?" Ben wondered, tone more curious than interrogative, which put Jimmy a bit more at ease. At least he didn't sound doubtful anymore, that was sort of nice.

"I count my steps," Jimmy answered, "Gives me a rough estimate of distance traveled."

"You _count_ your steps," Ben gaped, amazed, though a little taken aback.

"Also, some of the pipes are marked," Jimmy gestured overhead with a slight smirk, "I'm not sure what they mean, but I think it has to do with what buildings they feed into."

Ben gave a precursory glance at the pipes overhead, and then smiled at him, "You're amazing."

"Says the guy who knows what month it is just by looking at the stars," Jimmy returned lightly, then he faltered and questioned bleakly, "What did Rick have to say about the signal?"

Ben slowed, falling back a few steps, his head hung low and gaze fixated on the ground. It was an uneasy look and Jimmy didn't like it one bit.

"That's not important right now," Ben mumbled, "I was going to tell you about it…"

"The list of things you were going to tell me about just gets longer and longer," Jimmy muttered.

"Kind of like the list of things you're _never_ going to tell me about?" Ben retorted, darting his eyes up, burning intensity, then challenged, "Tell you what; I'll give you more information about the signal when you tell me about Dorchester."

"Thought you wanted to help me forget my terrible past," Jimmy murmured response and Ben faltered, dropping his eyes again.

"I do. I'm sorry," he admitted, shaking his head, "I just…"

"We'll talk about it later," Jimmy bit out, he sighed, pausing momentarily and waited for the other boy to recover and fall in step beside him once again, surmising, "Worried about your brothers?"

"What do you think?" Ben returned, frowning and musing glibly, "I wonder who'll die to protect Matt this time."

Jimmy turned the corner and shined his flashlight down the new corridor. There was a ladder about forty feet down, and he vaguely wondered how close it would put them to the hardware store. He tried to recall where a manhole cover had been on that street, but couldn't picture it. At the ladder, Ben wrapped a hand around Jimmy's to halt him. The others came to a stop behind them, waiting impatiently for the next direction.

"I and Rick will go up, you five stay down here," Ben whispered to Jimmy, "We'll grab the supplies and come back."

Jimmy glanced warily at Rick approaching from behind the group, then he trailed his eyes up to Ben's face, examining every blood stain, laceration, bruise and rip in his shirt along the way. He knew there was no talking Ben out of round two with the Skitters, and that Ben could take the second beating, but Jimmy didn't think he could handle seeing any more damage to that already severely battered body.

"Actually, I need to go, and Doug should probably come too," Jimmy returned carefully, clarifying, "We'll know what to grab, and how much, you and Rick won't. It'll be faster than us trying to explain to you."

"We can't trust leaving the other three here alone," Rick said, not bothering to lower his voice, and ignoring the dark looks the four teenagers darted him. He wasn't keen on discretion or tact, and Jimmy couldn't help wondering if that was because of what the Skitters did to him or if he'd always been so cold and mechanical. Ben had worn the harness for nearly as long as Rick, at least, that's how it seemed, yet Ben's personality remained, for all intents and purposes, human. Anyone at camp inclined to speak to Ben would readily admit he was by far more personable than Jimmy.

Ben glared at the ground at Rick's admission, weighing the option most likely, and Jimmy darted looks at the disgruntled teens standing at their backs. Rick had a point, the four had followed Ben and Rick of their own volition and against Weaver's orders, they'd already proven themselves to be complete idiots, it couldn't be put past any one of them to head off on their own for whatever ridiculous reason.

"We wouldn't take off," Roman jeered, and then added half-jokingly, "Without Dougie, anyway."

"I'll stay behind," Ben decided, eyes still fixed on the ground.

Jimmy glanced nervously between Ben and Roman; the two didn't exactly have a good enough track record for getting along that would make leaving them alone together seem at all appealing. Not to mention, it felt uncharacteristically charitable of Ben to volunteer staying behind, usually he was eager and outright emphatic that he be the one to run headlong into danger, especially if Jimmy was already headed there. The image of a caged tiger came to mind, and Ben already being in an enclosed area like the sewers made it all the more vivid.

"You sure?" Jimmy pressed.

"No, but Rick can get you to the store faster," Ben said, "And I took more of a beating than him during that first ambush," he regarded the other teenagers darkly and added tartly, "And it'll give us all a chance to chat."

"Ben, that's not a good idea," Jimmy muttered, darting another glance to Roman and then back up at Ben.

"That's the theme of the day, not good ideas, in case you haven't noticed," Ben returned cheekily, then raised his eyes to Jimmy's, he gingerly placed his fingertips on Jimmy's wrist, touched their foreheads together briefly, expression light but edged with a hint of severity, "Be careful."

"Play nice," Jimmy returned quietly, slightly flustered as he slowly pulled away and ascended the ladder after Rick and Douglas.

The manhole cover scraped noisily across the ground and light cascaded into the sewer corridor. Ben locked eyes with Kelsey and a humorless smirk flitted across his lip.

"Actually, now that you mention it…" Ben said beneath his breath, as the light cut away once more and the manhole clattered into place, "I'm done playing."

* * *

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AN: So, if you guys are wondering, this is moving more towards the events of Battle at Fitchburg, or whatever it was called, per WhisperMaw's request, which just so happened to fit nicely into the things I'd already had planned. I never read the web-comic, for personal reasons, which is fortuitous because I didn't want to (and I couldn't) follow the material exactly, I'm just getting some of the major events in there as described to me by various readers.

Right. Let me know what you guys think please!

Reviewers: SassySavanna190, ah...dear, it's not your suffering that amuses me, but your excitement and anxiousness and overwhelm of dramatic emotion that amuses me, and in that way, it's the best "payment" I think I can ever receive on my writing. I'm glad you liked the chapter. Yes, mean people suck, but they probably don't deserve to die for it. And the Skitters are acting a bit...off...but all explanations will come in due time. Yup, it's always good when the boys are together. WhisperMaw, lol, I'm glad you liked that line. Jimmy's got some zingers, I guess, and he's multifaceted. Personally, my favorite is Badass!Jimmy, which we'll get to see more of soon I hope. Good to hear Doug piqued your interest, why ever would you think any character in my story is just a one-dimensional furnishing? Also, what makes you think Ryan and Roman are getting together? I promise Ryan will be in the story...eventually...I think he'll enter rather unexpectedly. Maybe not as substantial as past ones, but it still always makes my day. Typhoonboom08, three for three...hm...I believe that's a turkey in bowling! I don't know, I don't actually know bowling terms but it certainly makes me feel charmed! Glad to hear that the chapter was cool, especially because I haven't seen that word in awhile and it's always nice to shake things up I think, and it's especially high praise that you felt everything was good as is! Maybe we'll go four in row? We'll see then. Caswiee, lol! Yup, um...thank you for the compliments. I guess it is only "Kinda" filling the gap between season 1&2, more like "flooding" the gap between season 1&2. fighter, I'm glad you thought so! I worry it's paced too slow, to be honest, but oh well, that's my MO, really. Thanks for stopping in again! Cookie97, glad to hear from you! Yup, Ben and Rick do make a super awesome team, and I really like writing their action-y parts. That's a lie, what am I saying, I hate writing action. I'm glad to hear Jimmy's final line made you happy, though, it seemed very Jimmy, I thought.

Right. I have a test to take (essay to write...blech, avoid college children...no wait, what am I saying? Go to college, get a degree! Or you know, whatever suits you, you don't have to college if its not for you...oi vey...I quit). See you guys Sunday!


	40. Chapter 40

A/N: They updated the site's look. Not sure how I feel about it yet.

Reviewers, you guys rock, thank you for dropping by as always.

And thank you, Greg, for beta-ing.

* * *

XL.

As soon as Jimmy, Rick, and Douglas disappeared through the manhole above, Roman moved to stand between Ben and the two girls, as though to protect them from Ben in some way. Kelsey, as usual, hovered at Roman's back, her fingers curled loosely in the hem of his shirt, eyes looked forlorn to the murky water flowing down the center of the corridor. Gia stood a couple paces behind them, almost looking lost without Douglas by her side, her eyes studying Ben disinterestedly.

In the dim of their two flashlights, they all seemed pale, cast in an eerie yellow-greenish glow, and in that way, Ben could gleam an understanding of how, almost a year ago, in similar conditions Jimmy had been mistaken by lost, shaken fighters of the 2nd Mass as a ghost as he led them to something akin to safety.

Ben didn't much care for being in the sewers, Rick had expressed just as much the moment they'd descended into that small, dark space, and there was varying levels of agitation in the other four, and Ben couldn't help wondering if within their own discomfort lie the reason Skitters never came into the sewer systems.

It was stifling in the sewers, Ben's typically heightened senses each felt dampened to an almost insignificant level. There wasn't much light, and while Ben knew his sight was better in the dark than it had been before the harness, the tight corridor and sharp twists and turns, and the monotone of everything around them made it difficult to see very far, and his ability to see well above average almost hindered him into blindness, he focused on everything to the point it became a solid mass. He had to trail a hand along the wall for guidance, keeping Jimmy in his center of vision, the contrast of the other boy's lightly colored skin against the dark undertones of their surroundings serving as a kind of beacon of light. Water rushed through pipes on every side, below the ground, and overhead, drowning out all other sound, so that the only thing Ben could hear was that dull roar. He couldn't smell much, but the scent wafting through the corridor, hung thick in the air, he could taste it rancid on his tongue and it still managed to give him a headache. He felt nauseas, and coated in a slimy film that clung to his skin and hair.

Jimmy obviously didn't like being in the sewers either, but he adapted to the environment well, moving naturally through the corridors, taking only a couple minutes to adjust his senses so that the low light and awful stench barely affected him at all, and because his hearing was at a normal level, the roar of the water around them was little more than a barely audible hum. Ben had been genuinely impressed by Jimmy's ability to guide them through a sewer system he'd never been in before, if not a slight envious, because he didn't have to deal with a Skitter half that hated it down there.

Now Jimmy was gone, and Ben left alone in the horrendous tunnel with only a pair of flashlights to focus on, and three hostile teenagers that quite possibly wanted him to meet a violent end, if their typical behavior towards him were any indication. He knew their senses were bogged down in the sewers, same as his, but to a fraction of the extent. Hopefully unbeknownst to them, they by far had the upper hand in their current circumstance.

Regardless, they had put Jimmy's life in danger one too many times, their conversation the other night still echoed hot in Ben's ears, and their unnecessary appearance on his and Rick's op proved the final straw. He wanted answers and at that moment, he didn't care the risk he needed to put himself in to get them.

"Why are you four here?" Ben demanded; his words reverberated off the sewer walls, fading down the hallway.

"We already told you…" Roman began, but Ben sharply cut him off.

"I'm not asking _you_," he kept his eyes steady on Kelsey, "I'm asking _her_."

Gia perked at that, and Roman positioned himself more fully in front of Kelsey. Kelsey tipped her chin farther down, kept her eyes downcast and her shoulders hunched.

"I don't know...why you would…" she stammered, keeping her voice expertly small and unsteady, but now that Ben knew what she could sound like, the meekness now sounded so painstakingly forced, "Roman is the one you should talk to."

"Why is that, because he's the ringleader? That's what everyone believes anyway, but I don't think that's true," Ben jeered, "I think that's just what you want everyone to believe."

"You think…think that…that…that I…I…I'm in charge?" Kelsey whimpered, darting a quick, timid look up at Ben and burying herself farther behind Roman.

Oh yeah, she was good, no one would ever think to question the tiny young girl, cowering behind a rock solid wall of muscle. Gia smirked lightly, bemused, turning her cheek away. Ben snorted, completely jaded by the act, and folded his arms over his chest. He took a couple small steps back, silently surveyed the three before him. Nothing was ever what it seemed, and even less so where those three were concerned, but Ben was fairly certain he was starting to get the clearer picture.

"There've been a number of comments being made around camp lately, that your friends seem fond of saying, about my relationship with Jimmy, likening me to his…uh…" Ben smiled vaguely, then wiped it away, "His guard dog. He doesn't like it, I know, but to be honest, it doesn't really bother me," he tossed a quick threatening glare Roman's direction, shrugging and admitting, "I actually kind of like it. If you think about it, compared to the oh-so-clever 'traitor in our midst' remarks…because those never get old…it's more of a compliment than insult, and it's a fairly accurate analogy. I might not sit and stay well, but I will do whatever needs to be done to protect him."

Roman rolled his eyes, shook his head, as if an attempt to shake away the obvious irritation.

"Now...I've been watching closely…and thinking back over a lot of things and…well, something very peculiar occurred to me," Ben continued, stroking his chin as though in thought, and raising a brow at the three, all eyeing him warily now, "Any time Roman has ever made a decision or said anything of value, you were right beside him, Kelsey. And when he doesn't have anything worth contributing, you aren't. Roman might have the aura of a leader, but he doesn't have the brains."

"What are you trying to say, Mason?" Roman growled, taking a menacing step forward, though faltering somewhat when Kelsey tugged his shirt hem.

"I'm saying that you're strong, bold, aggressive, violent, hot-tempered and way too stupid to call the shots. You're not the one in charge around here. Kelsey, you are the one in charge, and Roman is _your_ guard dog, isn't he?" Ben concluded, glaring between the two, "And unlike me, it seems he can sit and stay very well."

"I told you he was too smart," Gia muttered in the background.

"Will you be quiet," Kelsey hissed, turning a bitter glare up to meet the mildly amused expression creasing Ben's feature, the meek little girl completely replaced now by something fierce and wicked and very, very calculated, "You think you have it all figured out then, huh?"

"You're really going to keep denying it now?" Ben returned smugly.

"There's nothing to deny," Kelsey spat out, "You're wrong, plain and simple. I'm not in charge of anyone."

"Oh please…"

"Same as Roman isn't in charge, or Gia or Douglas for that matter," Kelsey continued, tone taking a venomous turn, "We came here for the very reasons that…"

"Stop _lying_," Ben interjected, "Now you really expect me to believe that you all have equal pull in the group? It's pretty obvious that not all of you have the same amount to gain from being out here. Douglas already admitted you were all in over your heads, and Gia's looked ready to go home since you got here, she knows none of you are ready to be out here…"

"No, but that's why we brought Jimmy," Gia interrupted, her friends shot her dark looks, and Ben's eyes widened.

"Shut up, Gia," Kelsey roared, "You're so worthless."

"He obviously already knows the answers," Gia argued.

"He doesn't know anything, he's trying to trick us into thinking he does so we'll give him everything and you're just dumb enough for it to work on," Kelsey returned heatedly.

"Come on, Kelsey, leave her alone," Roman mumbled.

"To be fair, you're all dumb enough for it to work on," Ben cut in sharply, and the three fell silent.

Roman had his eyes on Kelsey, obviously awaiting her order though he kept Ben in the corner of his eye, threat written in its edge, Kelsey had a glare fixed, burning a hole straight through Ben's own, and Gia had turned her face to stare with some unknown expression down the hall.

"And Gia's right. I did already know all the answers. I'll give you a clue, Kelsey; you look like you need one. Just because you can't hear me actually doesn't mean I can't hear you," Ben grit out, and Kelsey startled, suddenly paling considerably.

"I told you," Gia grumbled.

"Shut up," Ben snapped, eyes never leaving Kelsey, "You have everyone in camp fooled into thinking you're a sweet, soft-spoken, delicate little girl that hangs around with three older, tougher kids because she needs someone to take care of her, so you clearly don't give a damn about attention or glory or gaining anyone's respect in camp. But something tells me coming out here was your idea. What's your interest in the alien structure? _Why_ are you out here?"

"That's not your business," Kelsey seethed.

"You dragged Jimmy into it, that makes it my fucking business," Ben returned.

"I'm not the one that wanted to bring him," Kelsey shot back.

Ben faltered; his eyes flew instantly to Roman. The older boy scowled but his expression was otherwise unchanged, so Ben looked back to Gia, but her face was still turned away. They weren't going to give him anything.

"That doesn't change that you did, and from what I've seen so far, I'm guessing you're the one who orchestrated whatever it was that you four did to get him out here," Ben quietly stated, "And it doesn't change that you came here to interfere with mine and Rick's mission. Either talk, or we cut you all loose, send you on your way. If we get lucky, you distract the enemy and give us opportunity to blow up that alien structure…"

"You wouldn't," Gia gasped, whipping her head back round.

"Go ahead. We don't need you," Roman muttered.

"Both of you, quiet," Kelsey spoke up, "It's an empty threat, he's not going to leave us here," she smirked and sneered, "His 'master' wouldn't like it."

Ben tilted his chin down, glared up at her. The manhole cover overhead scrapped against the pavement, and was pulled away, light cascading down over the four teenagers standing off in the sewer. A few bags dropped down the hole, and then their three fellows soon followed. Ben only tore his eyes away from Kelsey when Jimmy joined him at his shoulder, Douglas shuffled around to join his friends, and Rick tugged the cover back in place, clanking into the hole once more.

"What's going on?" Jimmy asked Ben, looking amongst the four disgruntled teenagers, shifting uncomfortably. Ben exchanged a last look with Kelsey, her expression hard lined, challenge glinting in her eye.

"Nothing," Ben mumbled, smiling faintly at Jimmy, "How'd it go?"

"Fine; we got what we need, now all we have to do is assemble," Jimmy replied, remarking glumly, "No problem. Right?"

They found a large platform where Jimmy and Douglas could work and for several tens of minutes they experimented with the ingredients and spoke in low whispers to one another. Douglas seemed to know most of the technical terminology, he spoke about 'nitrates' and 'oxidizer', though Ben knew the words from science classes, he didn't understand the context. Jimmy, on the other hand, usually had no clue what Douglas was saying, and spoke in as layman terms as it got, 'the thing that mixes with the other thing, that ignites…then we got boom, right?'

It was a train wreck waiting to happen, and the whole scene would be hilariously amusing if the lives of everyone they knew and loved, including their own, weren't riding on the hope that the two boys could somehow manage to assemble a working explosive. Eventually, Jimmy became annoyed with Douglas, ranting about ratios and the explosive force, and an equation not balancing out, which clearly went over Douglas's head.

"What _equation_?" Douglas demanded, "This is chemistry, not math!"

"Okay, never mind, you're an idiot. Go away," Jimmy griped, shoving the other boy roughly by the shoulder, "Just leave, go away, I'll do it myself."

"Jimmy, stop being difficult," Ben called haggardly, sighing, as he massaged the bridge of his nose.

"I'm not being difficult. He's being useless," Jimmy returned grumpily.

"Oh boy, we are doomed," Gia mumbled, burying her face in her hand.

"Wow, Jimmy, have you always been the world's biggest jackass, or is that fertilizer somehow helping you grow significantly to blue prize winning size," Douglas quipped.

"What's the matter, Doug, worried I might take your title? Now fuck off, and start measuring out exactly how much I tell you of everything," Jimmy barked command. Ben grinned up at his lover as Jimmy started rattling off numbers in ounces for Douglas and Douglas scrambled to start measurements.

"That must really turn you on, huh, Fido? When he takes command like that?" Roman jeered in a low growl.

"Well, since you seem to care so much, as a matter of fact it kind of does," Ben returned casually, then snarled, "And unlike you, if there's a later after this, I get to do something with him about it. That doesn't make you…jealous, by any chance…does it?"

Roman scoffed, made a face, then set his jaw, folded his arms over his chest and glared off into the distance.

"Ben," Jimmy groaned, flustering and losing his place in listing off measurements for Douglas.

"Hey, puppy love, could you _not_ distract our bomb builder?" Kelsey silently muttered.

"I agree," Rick said quietly to Gia, "It's beginning to look highly likely that this will fail."

Nearly an hour and several small, sample-sized explosives detonated later, Jimmy and Douglas somehow managed to pack four presumably useable explosives capable, Jimmy promised, of a force strong enough to conjointly destroy a medium sized building, though he refused to specify exactly how large was meant by 'medium-sized'.

"It's uh…you know, medium-sized."

"But how big is medium-sized?"

"Well…medium-sized…you know…slightly smaller than large-sized and…uh…slightly larger than small…sized."

"Right. This is going to be fantastic."

"Now comes the hard part," Jimmy sighed, as he handed off the explosives, one to Rick, one to Ben, and he and Douglas held onto the last two.

"Setting the bombs," Ben finished.

"We're just taking the sewers right up to that structure thing, right?" Gia confirmed.

"Problem is, these things need to go off at about the exact same moment in time and they need to be manually ignited," Jimmy said, "That thing is huge…we're all going to have to split up…lay the explosives, leave someone with each one to light it…and then…I don't know…set them off at some predetermined time…"

"Sounds easy enough to me," Roman commented.

"Nothing is ever easy," Jimmy muttered.

"How many of us have watches?" Ben wondered, displaying the watch attached to his wrist, Jimmy tapped his own and Gia had one on.

"Shit…we have four bombs and only three watches? So much for synchronizing…what's plan 'B'?" Douglas complained, running his hands anxiously through his hair.

"Do we even know where we're going to lay these explosives?" Rick questioned.

"He's right. Captain Weaver always gives the layout for detonation assignments like this…he knows about demolitions, we don't," Jimmy groaned, leaning forward on his knees and grimacing as every single little flaw in their fly-by-the-seat-of-their-pants plan seemed to now be coming to light, stacking on top of one another into one gargantuan shit heap. Ben gently rest a comforting hand on his back as he whispered, "We are so screwed."

"No. No, we're not," Ben replied carefully, "You and I have both placed explosives for this very purpose, we should be able to puzzle out why they were placed where…"

"I don't remember where I put anything that day," Jimmy cried, "Hell; only thing I remember about that day is running for my life."

"We're not demolishing a building, though," Kelsey pointed out, receiving a few curious glances, "We're trying to destroy some alien structure, it doesn't even look like a building."

"Meaning, we haven't the first clue how to set explosives to take it down…we don't even know if our explosives will work," Jimmy griped.

"So we work with what we know," Douglas suggested, "We set the explosives so that they'll have the greatest amount of force over the largest amount of area."

"How the hell do we do that?" Roman muttered.

"Simple physics," Jimmy supplied, shrugging and wearily running a hand over his face.

"Can you do that? Do you know how?" Ben asked Jimmy quietly.

"I guess we're going to find out," Jimmy replied, "We need to get a good idea of about how large the alien structure thing is though."

"Then we'd better start moving," Ben said, "The structure was about seven blocks northeast…"

"Alright…we'll go seven blocks, take look topside, see where we are," Jimmy decided, tugging out Weaver's compass to get his heading, and then taking the lead once more. Ben trekked alongside him and everyone else fell in line behind them.

For the first couple blocks they moved in silence. Roman and Kelsey fell to the far end of the group, Gia and Douglas a few paces ahead of them, and Rick several feet ahead of them. Jimmy concentrated on their travels, constantly darting looks overhead and at the various other markers around them that Ben couldn't see, but Jimmy was able to use to establish their location in the city. Every so often he glanced at Ben. Ben kept his attention forward and Jimmy in his periphery.

"If this doesn't work," Jimmy started in a low, raspy voice.

"It'll work," Ben interjected.

"Except it might not," Jimmy said sharply, "Or we might be too late or…"

"Or a dozen other terrible things could happen," Ben hissed, "So let's not think about it right now and just focus on getting this one thing done."

"Except we need to think about it right now," Jimmy replied, darting a hasty look over his shoulder at the teenagers following them quietly. They all seemed too lost in their own musings to be paying Jimmy and Ben any attention.

"Why?"

"Because…we need to think about what we'll do next," Jimmy explained, sighing and looking up at the pipes overhead and then forward again, "If it doesn't work, then what is our backup plan?"

"Considering this is our last resort plan," Ben remarked grimly, "I think the backup plan goes something along the lines of…you know, take down as many Skitters as we can before they overwhelm us, then hope our deaths are quick and semi-painless. I call dibs on dying before you…unless you want to go cutesy romantic, die at the same time."

"And…and if it works, but we're too late?" Jimmy murmured silently.

Ben didn't reply. Jimmy held the explosive he carried tighter under his arm.

"Ben…" he started carefully, "I…um…look, whatever happens…I…"

"Yeah," Ben whispered, flashing a small smile to Jimmy, "Me too."

* * *

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A/N: Aww...cutesy crap. Apologies about some parts in this chapter, I was in a very "fuck it all" mood when I wrote it, and so there are dialogues that were written almost purely to crack me up. Also, because the unharnessed kids aren't meant to be bad people, they just do bad things...to Ben...and Jimmy. Oh well.

Let me know what you think, please!

Reviewers: Guest, Y. SassySavanna190, on a bike even. You're awesome. You almost fell down a sewer once?! Well, I'm glad you only bruised your hip. Yeah, Dorchester wasn't pretty for Jimmy, and the others just keep leaving him out, and dragging him blindly in, the poor guy. Yeah, Ben didn't do anything to...crazy, but I hope it was somewhat satisfactory. Cookie97, lol, everyone always wants Ben to punch Roman. Which is good, I suppose, because Ben always wants to punch Roman. I guess it's not so weird you getting excited when Ben and Jimmy are nice to each other...savor it while it lasts. Kidding. Or am I? :P TyphoonBoom08, yes, four in a row! Awesome! I'm glad you like the adventures, I like writing the adventures too and it kind of disheartens me a bit when people are like, that's nice and all, but why aren't they screwing each other's brains out yet? I'm also glad you're a big fan of Rick, because I have long term plans for him. Apologies, though, that you didn't get to see Rick and Jimmy's 'mission', I kind of didn't think it would be all that interesting. Neither are really all that chatty, and they're both very straight to business characters. They will have opportunity to chat in much later chapters though, I promise. MidniteLover99, glad you found the story and are enjoying it so far!

See you guys Sunday. Now I have to go talk to a man about some eggs and coffee.


	41. Chapter 41

A/N: Happy Easter to everyone who celebrates today! Has anyone noticed the past three big holidays have all fallen on a Sunday?

So, remember when I said this would be a long story? I broke 200,000 words this week, and I'm coming up on chapter 50, the story I've got in my head isn't even a third of the way on paper yet...so...yeah...long story. I apologize to those who don't like long stories.

Thank you to the reviewers, you guys rock.

And thank you to Greg for beta-ing. He had little to say besides he, surprisingly, liked it.

* * *

XLI.

It took them longer than anyone felt comfortable to get to the structure, and with each minute ticking by, well aware that it was another minute the 2nd Mass was under attack by swarms of Skitters, they all became increasingly more anxious. The last ten minutes of their trek they were tensely draped in silence. Jimmy climbed up a platform and peeked up through a drainage grate to determine their location, the other six teenagers waiting on the ledge down below until Jimmy rejoined them, coming to stand beside Ben and Rick.

"We're right under it," Jimmy announced, "From what I could see it looks like the structure stretches across the entire block. There are a lot of bugs up there…and Mechs. I don't know how we're going to pull this off."

"Can you figure out where we need to place the explosives from here or do we need to move elsewhere?" Ben asked.

"No, I got it figure out," Jimmy answered easily.

"Already got it figured out? Wait, don't we have to do calculations and math type stuff first?" Douglas wondered.

"It's fine. It's done," Jimmy grumbled.

"Done? As in, you already did the math or you don't know how to do the math so you're just winging it?" Roman cut in.

"This doesn't seem like something you should just wing," Gia commented, "I think you ought to write out the problems…I might have brought something you can write with in this pack…"

"Yeah, I think we should get it written out so that we all know…" Ben murmured, helping Gia dig through her pack.

"Will you all just shut up and listen?" Jimmy cried, and everyone faltered, looking at him in stun. He ran his hands over his face, pushed his hair out of his eyes, and hissed, "I have a pretty good feel for the layout of these sewers, the manholes seem pretty evenly placed, so two of them are going to come up right next to where the explosives need to be laid and the other two are going to take some maneuvering to get to, they're going to come up about a street away from where the explosives need to be. I will lead everyone to the manholes they need to climb out of to lay the explosives. The two that take a little walking to get to, Ben and Rick, you guys are going to them, Rick, I'll take you to your manhole first, that way you can figure out the route you need to go, Ben…you'll be third, that way…that way if anything happens and I don't…then you'll know where to pick up the others."

Ben and Jimmy met one another's gaze, but before the protest obvious in Ben's features could begin, Jimmy cut him off with the rest of his explanations.

"Doug, Rome, Gee, and Kelsey are staying together, elect one of your group to go topside to lay the explosive, lead the fuse down the manhole and then you will light it from inside the sewers. Afterwards, I will come and round you guys up, wait at your manholes until I or Ben arrives, then we'll take the sewers out of the downtown district," Jimmy finished.

"How are we going to synchronize the explosions?" Rick questioned, "We only have three watches."

"Here…Rick…you take mine," Jimmy mumbled, undoing the watch at his wrist and handing it over to the other boy.

"What about you?" Rick asked, strapping the watch to his wrist.

"I'll figure it out," Jimmy muttered, "Let's move. We don't have a whole hell of a lot of time. Time is five forty-seven now, I want to blow that sucker sky-high by six fifteen."

Begrudgingly, the six teenagers fell in line behind Jimmy. Although they obviously had more protests and questions, Jimmy gave them little choice but to follow when he spun on heel and started rushing through the corridors. They reached the first manhole and Jimmy gestured Rick up the ladder, repeating the time, 'six fifteen', before hurrying to their next location. Jimmy had increased his pace tenfold, maneuvering with an expert's grace, and the five remaining super soldiers found themselves struggling to keep up.

When they reached the second manhole, they had seventeen minutes on the clock before Rick would detonate. Jimmy quickly reiterated his instructions, elect one to surface, and feed the fuse down the hole. He told them to stand away from the opening, they would have about a minute to get as far away from the explosion as possible, and the sewers would, for the most part, protect them from the blast.

Then Jimmy and Ben were left alone to rush through the sewer systems towards the next location. They broke into a sprint through the corridors, and when they reached the ladder, Jimmy, breathless from their run, pressed a haste and clumsy kiss to Ben's lips.

"That comment you made about wanting me to know where to pick up the others just in case…that was crap, right?" Ben whispered, lacing their fingers and giving Jimmy's hand an insistent squeeze, eyes searching Jimmy's own.

"Wait for me five minutes after the explosion…if I don't come back, leave without me," Jimmy solemnly instructed.

"But your placement…where you're going to lay the bomb…it's just up and out of the hole; I thought you said it was just…" Ben protested.

"Right; it is," Jimmy said.

"You're lying to me right now," Ben realized.

Jimmy checked the watch on Ben's wrist and made a face.

"I got six minutes to run about a mile and a half, and I've never been a great runner," Jimmy grumbled, smiling slightly, reassuringly, and kissing Ben again, "I'll see you in a bit."

"You bastard, you did this on purpose, and now it's too late to stop this, to come up with something else…" Ben cried, as Jimmy wheeled round and darted off into the sewers, "Jimmy, shit, wait!"

Ben growled low in the back of his throat, bit back the emotions churning like molten lava in his veins, and climbed the ladder. He still had to figure out how he was going to get the one street over and lay the explosive in his hand. He slid open the sewer cover and peeked out. The sun had set nearly two hours prior, and the entire street was cloaked in darkness. There were countless Skitters in all directions, and at least seven Mechs within a twenty foot radius of that hole. Ben drew his breath in hard and ragged into his lungs, pushed it out with a furious force, and climbed out onto the street.

The signal pierced through Ben's skull, cleaving his head into tiny, fragmented pieces. He stumbled and staggered across the street, gripping his head in one hand. He could hear Skitters converging on him, though he wasn't sure if it was because they'd heard him, one of his comrades, or they simply decided to move that direction. Then he faltered and scoured the darkness, hand twitching to his blade. A Skitter stood not ten paces away, staring dead straight at him, a single red dot cutting through the black, and that blasted signal was ripping, white hot through his veins, a pain so violent it nearly brought him to his knees.

Ben fought down the bile rising in his throat, forced his thoughts to his brothers, to Jimmy racing off into danger, all of them were fighting for their lives at that moment, he needed to stay focused. The thought was enough to continue dragging his feet subconsciously forward. He kicked adrenaline into his bloodstream, let it smolder and sizzle beneath his skin, raising his senses to their farthest heights. The Skitter didn't make a move for him, more had gathered round, they watched his progress with interest, but didn't approach. He kept placing his feet, one in front of the other. The signal was getting stronger and stronger. He couldn't breathe; it was hammering into his chest. He couldn't think or see straight; it was drilling through his brain.

Then the world washed white.

Ben stumbled out onto the back porch of his family home, and blinked in the scene. It was night time. Fireworks whizzed into the sky and exploded into a wide array of bright, brilliant colors that scattered, spiraling out in an array of directions. Marty sat out there, her face buried in her knees, her shoulders shuddered.

It was the Fourth of July.

Fourth of July had always been the Mason family's 'holiday'. They would host a huge barbeque with hamburgers, hotdogs, spare ribs, five kinds of potato salads, grilled corn on the cob, and a large seven layer chocolate cake, and then invite all their friends, extended family, nearly the entire neighborhood, people spilling out of the house into the front and backyard. As soon as dusk settled, light low enough on the horizon, they would set off fireworks in the streets, people lined up to watch on the front lawn in chairs or sprawled out on blankets.

That year, Hal had decided to spend the weekend on a friend's lake boat, and, although his father was extremely disappointed to be down one son during his favorite holidays, Ben was allowed to invite friends to stay for the weekend in Hal's stead. Artie and Hatchet were the obvious choices, but a bit of smooth talking and several hours petulant begging got Marty an invite as well. They spent the first day and all through the night in marathon mode, watching old Sci-fi flicks from the sixties, seventies, eighties: Logan's Run, 2001: A Space Odyssey, the first three Star Wars movies, Planet of the Apes, and Blade Runner; only pausing for intermittent pen and paper style role playing. They slept in the next day and helped set up for the barbeque that night.

"Marty…?" Ben called, glancing around and attempting to get his bearings straight. His head was pounding and he didn't know why. He felt disoriented, he could barely see straight. A strange, horrible feeling was ripping through his chest. He couldn't remember why he'd come into the backyard. He knew he'd been doing something important before, he just didn't know what, but he felt if he didn't finish it then something terrible would happen.

Marty seized upon hearing her name.

"If you know what's good for you, Mason, you'll turn around and walk away," she growled warning, her voice hoarse from sobbing.

"I don't…know…where…?" Ben stammered, focusing on the girl bawling in his backyard. He knew the pain ripping through her as though it ripped through himself, "I'm sorry. Marty, please…"

"Nothing you can say will ever excuse what you did," Marty roared, spinning round and clambering to her feet, her eyes red and puffed, fixing on him in a dangerous glower. He took a small step back, swallowed down his emotions, sorrow and regret, the guilt that weighed down on his shoulders.

"I know that…I do," Ben stammered, "I wish I could take it back. I know that I made a mistake…I know I did, but you have to believe me, I didn't mean for it to happen! It wasn't me…"

"You were my friend. My best friend, you realize that? You know, I never had a best friend before," Marty whispered harshly, stepping towards Ben, menace in her expression contorted by pain, "I would've had your back until the end and now…now I don't ever want to speak to you or even see your face again."

"Marty," Ben pleaded, "Please, listen to me! I'm sorry, I am, but it wasn't me…I wouldn't have…"

"How the fuck could I ever believe anything you ever say again?" Marty hissed, hastening for the door. Ben moved to block her, placing his hands on her shoulders to hold her back, "I trusted you, asshole!"

"Marty, wait, please, you don't understand," Ben cried. He caught the glint of rage in her eye, but didn't realize until her fist connected with his jaw and he plummeted to the ground the danger he'd put himself in. She was gone into the house by the time he recovered and struggled to his feet, wincing at the pain surging through him from all angles. He rushed into the house after her, but she disappeared through the crowd of partiers.

Ben pushed his way into the sea of bodies, instantly hit with a wave of their heat and stench. He thought he caught sight of Marty slipping out the door and hurried to give chase, but the mass of people felt like it was getting thicker and his head kept throbbing with pain, he couldn't see straight, he felt ready to pass out. He asked, begged, pleaded with people to move out of the way, but they kept jostling him around and pushing him back out to where he started once again. Finally, he gave in and staggered up the stairs towards his bedroom. He collapsed on his bed and buried his face in the pillow, willed sleep to take over.

The bedroom door opened and Ben pushed himself up, glaring at his brother standing in the doorframe, sunlight streaming through his window, a pale milky color.

"Dammit Ben, why the hell are you still in bed? I told you we were going shopping an hour ago," Hal griped, crossing the room to rip the blankets off Ben's body, clad in a t-shirt and boxers, the chill January air attacked his slender frame, he instantly curled up in an attempt to trap warmth into himself, "Get up, we have to go."

"Go away, Hal," Ben groaned, "It's Saturday, and I have a raid in an hour."

"Mom and dad's anniversary is on Tuesday, dipwad, and they get back from Gram's tonight," Hal said, "We have to get their present now. Matt is waiting downstairs…"

"Why do I need to come? Can't you two find a present yourselves?" Ben returned heatedly.

"I think they'd like something that came from all of us," Hal stated calmly.

"Meaning you used all of your allowance on your date last night, and Matt only gets five dollars a week, four of which he immediately spends on candy, so you need me to come and pay for everything," Ben spat, "Well, no thank you, you two are on your own. I've decided I'm not getting mom and dad an anniversary gift this year."

"Ben," Hal sighed, gearing up for a good old fashioned older brother beating on the younger relentlessly until he agrees to do everything the older tells him to.

"Marriage is overrated," Ben muttered, wandering to his computer desk and booting up the machine, it whirred to life, blue LED lights spilling from the tower innards, "It's a contemptible institution, I mean look at its history. It was one of the earliest forms of slavery, trading women like livestock, and then it became a mark of elitism that carries on to today, only the rich or the divine or the socially acceptable can wed. Think about it, Hal. Marriage is a crock, and by giving mom and dad a gift commending them on seventeen years in the system is like paying tithe to an oppressive ruler."

"You're kidding, right?" Hal scoffed, massaging the bridge of his nose and shaking his head.

"Absolutely not, look into it, Hal, history is riddled with evidence that marriage is a corrupt, malignant system, an evil enterprise that wreaks havoc on every society that it has been a part of and should be abolished completely," Ben insisted, fingers flying across his keyboard as he logged into his World of Overlords account.

"You're a real piece of work, Ben," Hal clucked reprovingly, "By any chance, would you care to relay that information to mom and dad on Tuesday while their eating their anniversary dinner, reviewing their wedding video, and not opening any gifts from the children that love them and are happy of the union that produced them…or do you just want to chuck holy water at the screen, scream 'be gone demon', and hope that'll cast marriage back to hell, so mom and dad don't have to worry about it anymore?"

"See, that is the problem, right there," Ben said, shaking his head at his brother and smirking sardonic, "Marriage isn't the reason you and I and Matt were born. We could've been born with or without the ceremony and the license and the joint tax returns. It is a corrupt system that self-perpetuates through lies like that, the idea that families are created through some superficial exchanging of 'vows' that no one actually adheres to…'until death do us part', in a world with a fifty percent divorce rate, not including annulments and separations and faked deaths to get away, what the hell does that even mean anyhow?"

"Right; and, of course, none of this has anything to do with what was written about you on the Slam Stall in the second floor boys' restroom at school, does it?" Hal replied in a flat tone.

Ben faltered, heart slamming headfirst into his throat. He narrowed his eyes on the menu screen of his game, studying his avatar, swapping out colors on its vestments.

"You know it's not an actual poll, Ben, just a couple assholes drawing it up like it is and then 'stuffing the ballot box'," Hal began, rolling his eyes and muttering, "Nobody actually believes you're going to die a virgin with your dick in your hand."

"How did you find out about that?" Ben mumbled, suddenly finding it very hard to breath. He could still see the words written across the stall in bleeding red ink: "Most Likely to Die An Old Virgin in the Middle of Jacking Off", the list of candidates named underneath, him at the top, all of those tally marks next to his name, one long black line of condemnation where the other boys only had three or four marks, some had none at all, next to their names. He quietly reached for his inhaler across the desk, held it in his hand as though for security but didn't raise it up to his lips for a puff of the medication.

"Nate's little brother told him and he told me," Hal answered earnestly, shrugging, then said, "Ben, if there are boys at school giving you a hard time…"

"I can handle it," Ben interjected sharply, simmering with feelings of rage and betrayal at the thought of his alleged friend Artie confessing to older brother Nathan all about little, dorky Ben Mason's humiliation scrawled across the wall of a bathroom stall, "I'm fine, Hal, I don't need your help or your pep talk."

"Ben," Hal protested.

"I'm not getting mom and dad an anniversary gift because I don't believe in marriage not because of some stupid thing that a bunch of jerks wrote about me," Ben growled, pulling himself to his feet and striding towards the bedroom door, out into the bathroom, Hal hot on his trail.

"Listen, you little shit," Hal seethed, "Mom and dad put up with a lot of crap from you and Matt, they deserve one day…"

"What about you?" Ben spun around, "What about all the crap they have to put up with from you? Or are we just going to forget that you were brought home by the cops two weeks ago, caught screwing your girlfriend…I'm sorry, ex-girlfriend, in her car up on 'lovers' lane'. Indecent exposure, you know, can get you registered as a sex offender? For the rest of your life you would be a little red dot on a map that soccer mom's freak out over because it popped up down the street from their homes."

"Well at least I'm not dying a virgin," Hal snapped, then immediately clamped his mouth shut, looking slightly abashed, "I didn't mean that."

Ben faltered, dropping his eyes.

"Yes you did," he murmured, then slipped into the bathroom and quietly shut the door, clicking the lock into place.

"Ben," Hal groaned through the door, "You're not going to die a virgin. I'll get you a hooker for your eighteenth birthday, how's that?"

"I'm still not getting mom and dad an anniversary present," Ben growled reply, turning the water on at the sink and glaring into the mirror.

"And what the hell are you going to tell mom and dad on their anniversary then? That their marriage is a crock?" Hal demanded, pounding the door a couple times for good measure.

"Maybe it is," Ben muttered, closing his eyes and splashing water into his face.

The sound of the bathroom door opening startled Ben's eyes open once more, water clinging to his lashes and dripping down his cheeks. He reached for the paper towel dispenser, grabbed a couple of the brown sheets to blot his features dry, slipped his glasses back on and eyed the three boys that had entered warily as he plucked his backpack off the ground and slung it over his shoulder, aiming to slip out of the bathroom and scurry to class before they took any special note of him. One of the boys, Oliver Loomis – he and Ben shared geometry, pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and tugged out one of the sticks, resting it between his lips. He was the one that caught sight of Ben, a smirk flitting across the corners of his mouth.

"Hey, Spacin'," he greeted, and the other boys turned interestedly. Ben faltered a few steps from the bathroom door, peeked back and forced a dry smile.

"Hi…uh…Oliver," Ben returned, awkwardly bobbing his head in some acknowledgment to the other two boys present.

"Why're you rushing off? Hang out. Have a smoke," Oliver offered, closing the distance between them, slipping an arm over Ben's shoulder to guide him back into the bathroom and extending the pack his direction.

"I…I can't smoke. Asthma," Ben murmured, wincing.

Of course he had to sound like the world's biggest dork in front of the school's most popular bad boy who seemed, at that very moment, to have decided to give insanity a try because why else would he be talking to Ben in a social setting, with other people watching, no less? Well, the bathroom, maybe, didn't regularly qualify as a "social setting" but there were three friends there socializing, and for some odd reason, they'd decided to bring him in.

Ben immediately flustered at Oliver's touch, and sudden close proximity, and the attention now coming at Ben from all angles, hastily tacking on to his first proclamation an uncertain, "Thank you, though."

"Asthma, huh? That's shit," Oliver complained, releasing Ben to stand uncertainly amongst his circle of friends, as he easily lit the cigarette and blew a thin line of smoke away.

Ben wrinkled his nose and shifted uncomfortably, he couldn't stay in the room with that smoke for too long, but he'd been invited into the circle, was now standing, seemingly wanted, amongst a crowd of "popular" kids, and he couldn't find the will to step out of it again.

"You're in my sixth period English class, right?" one of the other boys question and Ben glanced at him, gave him a once over and shrugged, "Miss Mueller?"

"Um…yeah…I'm sorry, I don't remember ever seeing you," Ben replied sheepishly.

"I guess it's difficult to see the back of the class with your lips pressed so firmly to Miss Mueller's ass," the boy jeered and Ben's face fell, feeling as though he'd been punched in the gut.

"Right," Ben vaguely smirked, starting for the door.

"Where are you going, Space-case? We're still talking," Oliver called, grabbing hold of Ben by the arm then shoving him towards the stalls.

Ben staggered back a few steps, nearly losing his backpack, the other boys advancing on him. He attempted to straighten, tried for the door again, but one of the boys moved to block his path.

"Please," he whimpered, "I just want to go to class."

"You can go to class when we're done talking," Oliver insisted, though from their movements it was obvious they didn't intend to actually "talk". Ben pressed himself back against the stall partition, watching them uncertainly.

"What do you guys want from me? I didn't do anything…" Ben pleaded.

"No, no, that's right, you didn't do anything," Oliver sneered in return, standing several inches in front of Ben. He blew the smoke from his cigarette straight into Ben's face and Ben covered a hacking cough, biting back the asthma attack struggling in his chest, "Miss Hargreaves just out-of-the-blue realized how I was passing my tests and decided to fail me for the semester."

Ben's eyes widened. He knew there'd been an arrangement with Lindsey, but never learned the finer details.

"That wasn't me, I swear," Ben gasped, desperately searching for air but only managing to swallow more smoke.

Late bell overhead rung, signaling that all students should be in their next class, and the boys grabbed Ben's arms on either side as he struggled in vain against their tight grasp. They dragged him towards the open stall.

"Please, I didn't do it, you have to believe me! It wasn't me," Ben cried.

The bathroom door opened and in his struggle, Ben caught a flash of blue, staggering to a halt, fighting to get a better look.

"Wait…wait, please…that boy…" he stammered, but he found himself plunging head first into the toilet and falling into a field of red flowers.

Ben lay on his back, staring up at an endless stretch of cloudless blue sky. The mysterious blonde girl lay beside him, their hands clasped, fingers twined.

"It's beautiful here," Ben whispered.

"Yes, it is," the girl replied, turning her face to stare at him, though he kept his eyes locked on the deep sky above. He could almost see passed the thick ozone to the black space and the sea of shimmering stars beyond, the planets, space debris, and clusters of gas and dust, rocketing into galaxies farther and farther away, but growing more familiar the closer he got to that strange alien world that lie across an entire universe.

"This isn't right, though," Ben said, sitting up and gently untangling his hand from the girl's, "I don't belong here."

"If not here, then where?" the girl returned plaintively, drawing herself up to sitting as well, "Why do you keep running from what you are?"

Ben fell hard back into the abandoned streets of a downtown district. Explosions rang all around him, fire leapt to the skies. He watched as the structure crinkled and collapsed, stared blank at his empty hands. Had he laid the bomb, had he done his part? He didn't know. The structure was going down, though, so he staggered back towards the manhole. It wasn't important right then; he needed to wait for Jimmy. A small squeeze on his heart, and he closed his eyes momentarily, please, let him come.

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A/N: I didn't actually like this chapter as I think about it. The bullying scene was tame, but hard for me to write...I hate bullying, I really do, which is ironic, I suppose, because on occasion I've been called a bully. Of course, it hurt my feelings, and how is it any less bullying to call a person who simply speaks their mind, without intention of cruelty, a bully just because you don't like what they say? I'm digressing...

Please leave me a little something on what you thought of the chapter.

Reviewers: NoxOne, that was a bit of a chess match, I like the analogy. Thanks for stopping in, I'll do my best! SassySavanna190, yup, Kelsey is something else. She's had a rough life, though, I don't know how much detail I'll go into. Lol, yes, Roman did get burned a bit. I'm glad you see that they're not really bad people, and that you like them in the story more than not. Cookie97, Ben is a fun to write being a smart ass, I give most of those moments to Jimmy, but Ben's tone is different, less cynical and more horny teenage boy. I'm glad to hear you like Gia and Doug! :) I like them all, but I'm a bit bias. Yeah, always good to end with some Ben/Jimmy sweetness. Facepalmer123, welcome back. There's quite a lot of chapters to get caught up on! Happy reading!

See you guys next Sunday.


	42. Chapter 42

A/N: Up late marathoning a show that was canceled in its prime years ago and may possibly see resurrection in the near future. The world is a crazy place and just about anything is possible, even Jimmy coming back from the dead, come on TNT, make it happen. Yes? No? Fuck you.

Thank you to the readers, reviewers, whatnot. I understand season 3 is coming out soon? I guess? I hope it's enjoyable for you people still watching.

Thank you to Greg for beta-ing. He didn't enjoy this chapter, you'll see why.

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XLII.

Though lying to Ben had been the only way, Jimmy couldn't help the guilt that swarmed him at the sound of Ben's frantic pleas that he stay as he raced through the damp sewers towards his set up point. Getting to the place where he needed to set his bomb wasn't necessarily going to be more difficult than the other areas; there was a short trek involved and it was on the only side of the alien structure that Jimmy wasn't certain of conditions. He couldn't see that side from the roof hours ago, and they hadn't passed it during their run through the district. Although Ben and Rick had the super hearing and speed, Jimmy had the greater experience slipping through urban areas dense in alien troops, there wasn't enough time for him to argue that point with Ben.

Jimmy counted off time in his head, it wouldn't be accurate but at the very least he could detonate his bomb around the same time as the others. He reached his ascension point with less than four minutes, lungs on fire and gasping for breath, and then he raced up the ladder and peeked out at the surrounding street. There was nothing immediately in sight, but he could hear a Mech screaming nearby. Securing the explosive bundle under his arm, Jimmy crawled out of the sewers and gently slid the manhole cover off the hole to make it easier for him to jump into and climb back down after setting the bomb. He rushed between cover, bracing himself and listening intently for any nearby enemy. He nearly tripped once, throwing himself to the ground behind a car when a pack of five Skitters suddenly rushed by, darting at a breakneck pace towards the structure.

Jimmy carefully picked himself off the ground and hurried the same direction, pausing at the end of the street where he would find the structure and poking his head partially round, expecting to find those Skitters waiting for him, but save for the iridescent mass stretching skyward the street was empty. He wrinkled his brow and stepped towards the structure, breath hitched in his throat. The structure, up close he couldn't call it that, it looked almost organic, like a large pile of mold creeping across the street and crawling over buildings, consuming everything in its wake. He bent near its edge, prepping the bomb, and fell onto his backside at a brush to his cheek, staring wide-eyed at the thing. It curled out a piece of itself, like a hand, towards him and he furrowed his brow, carefully picking himself up and eyeing the limb wearily. It stretched for him, and then sank back into itself, rippling and gurgling.

An urge came over Jimmy, and he stepped tentatively up beside the mass and brought his hand, trembling, towards it. Shuddering, it began to slowly reach back until it touched his fingertips, and a chill raced from that point the entire length of his arm and splashed into his chest, drilling cold like an icicle straight through his heart, as a million and one thoughts, voices, screaming, shouting, crying, whispering, soft, sweet, images, terrains all at once alien and familiar, creatures miraculous, people unknown, memories, some his own and some very certainly not, emotions, sorrow, happiness, anger, rage, pride, triumph, depression, joy, serendipity, love, everything rushed into him, through him, berating him all at one. He gasped, jerking his hand back and hugging it to himself, falling to a knee, crying out in shock and pain.

Black inkiness dripped across Jimmy's vision, a sickness swelling in his gut and threatening to spew his innards onto the street below. His body grew cold and his limbs heavy.

"Not now," he pleaded, "Please not now…"

Fumbling hands, Jimmy struggled to light the fuse and push himself to his feet. He couldn't see, couldn't breathe. He felt as though he was floating as he stumbled one foot in front of the other and he didn't realize he was collapsing until he awoke who knew how long later, a hand at his cheek gently prodding him to wakefulness.

"…mm…Ben?" he murmured, peeling his eyes open.

"You with me, kid?" greeted an entirely different, yet still familiar voice, and Jimmy forced his bleary vision to focus on the face staring concernedly down at him.

"Anthony?" Jimmy vaguely recognized.

"Great, now ask him how many fingers," a gruff voice muttered from the background, and with a great deal of pain, Jimmy tilted his head to get a better look at his surroundings, Pope hovered nearby glaring down at Jimmy. Jimmy was seated on the floor, and they were in a partially destroyed store of some kind.

"Jimmy, you okay? Look at me. Drink some water," Anthony insisted, lifting something to Jimmy's mouth.

Jimmy parted his lips slightly and a warm liquid, wondrous in its taste, tumbled across his cracked lips, dried tongue and down into his sore throat.

"Did it work?" Jimmy asked when he was done drinking, still dazed. He tried to sit up straighter, nearly blacked out again, sinking back and Anthony placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Steady…just stay right there…you took a good hit to the head, looks like," Anthony instructed, and Jimmy could feel the knot throbbing at the back of his head and thick, warm, ooze sticky in his hair and slick down his neck, "Did what work?"

"Bomb…the thing…alien thing…is it gone?" Jimmy stammered, the world becoming more painfully solid. He felt the sudden need to vomit, swallowed the bile back down, gagging somewhat, and making a face.

"That must have been the explosion we saw earlier," Anthony said over his shoulder to Pope and the other man gave a disinterested nod of his head, "Where did you get a bomb, Jimmy? Did you take one from camp?"

"No…would've been nice if I had, though...easier," Jimmy murmured, making another attempt at sitting up completely, but slower this time, "I made them…with fertilizer and…" he furrowed his brow, his memory was a bit fuzzy, "Other stuff."

Anthony gaped momentarily and Jimmy looked sheepish, shrugging.

"Regular junior chemist, we got here, huh?" Pope grumbled, shifting restlessly where he stood, pacing a few times.

"Well, whatever you used, it worked. That alien structure is gone and a huge chunk of the enemy is gone with it," Anthony said, flashing a quick grin of approval, then training his features stern again, "What the hell are you doing out here, Jimmy? We retreated from the community center, took cover in a church, mustered units, did a roll call…when you weren't there, everyone thought…shit, we all assumed the worst. Everything thinks you're dead."

"I really wish that would stop happening to me. I left during the first attack…wasn't by choice," Jimmy explained, gently inspecting his injuries, "Roman…the four I was training, they basically hijacked me. They wanted to go after Ben and Rick, I don't know why, and they needed me for…I don't know what…wait, why are you here? And where are we?"

"We're still in the city, in one of the abandoned shops. Looks like it used to be…a café, I guess," Anthony supplied, then clarified, "When we retreated from the center, Pope took off with a bunch of others…probably to escape."

"Well, excuse me, but I had plans and they didn't involve my dying with the lot of you," Pope muttered from the background, his words were slurring and he looked crankier than normal, "And for your information, mister former police officer turned nagging Nancy, our plans were to kick some ass. Go down in a blaze of glory, as opposed to your plans, which were…correct me if I'm wrong, cowering with the little children and waiting for the aliens to come and massacre you."

Jimmy furrowed his brow at the older man and then darted an uncertain glance at Anthony.

"He alright?" Jimmy wondered quietly.

"He's drunk," Anthony answered; a hint of reprove and slight amusement in his words, "They all are."

"Why?" Jimmy returned, though he knew the question was a little foolish, he suddenly found himself more concerned for his "saviors" than himself.

"Why? Well, why the hell are you short?" Pope snapped.

"Because I'm fourteen," Jimmy said, slightly indignant, "Wait…are you saying you're drunk because you're old?"

"No, I'm saying you're annoying because you're a kid," Pope replied smartly.

"Jimmy, just stop," Anthony recommended, "You shouldn't fight with drunks, you can't win."

"Which is why we got drunk," Pope pointed out, "To win."

Anthony sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose and Jimmy rubbed a hand over his face haggardly.

"Sans the drinking, they actually had a good idea. We had to abandon the heavy artillery truck during the community center evac, Pope and few others thought to go back and retrieve it then blast a path through the aliens. While the aliens were busy with the bulk of our fighters, they went around the long way," Anthony continued his explanations, "But things were too hot at the center, so they found some liquor and celebrated like it was their last night on earth instead. That's how I found them, wasted, and still planning to storm the enemy."

"All got to die someday," Pope grumbled.

"The kamikaze route was admirable, I admit, but I suggested we take some C4 bundles and carry out Ben's plan, at least there was a chance of survival in that, and if we got lucky, then it would draw the aliens off the 2nd Mass, give them a chance to retreat for real, and our lives wouldn't be sacrificed in vain," Anthony concluded, "We were about halfway here when we saw the explosion."

"Why'd you keep coming then?" Jimmy asked.

"We were still too far away to know what the fireworks were about, genius," Pope said.

"We didn't know the structure had been destroyed until we were actually in the district," Anthony clarified, "We wandered around a bit, Pope couldn't quite remember where the thing was supposed to be, and we happened to find you in the rubble…Tector spotted you, actually."

"Tector?" Jimmy repeated, he didn't put a face to the name.

"He's outside with the others on watch, you can thank him for saving your life later," Anthony said.

"Yeah, just as soon as we're out of 'Cootie-Ville'," Pope added.

"Looking at the area where we found you, all of the damage nearby, I would've thought you were caught in the explosion, and there was a lot of blood, your clothes were soaked…hell, I was sure you were dead when I saw you lying there, out cold," Anthony continued, and Jimmy distantly acknowledged that his garments were hardened with dry blood, "I'm beginning to think I should just stop thinking you're dead. We took you in like a stray cat, clearly you got nine lives. What the hell happened out there?"

"I don't know," Jimmy admitted, flashing back to the alien mass in front of him, reaching out to him, touching him, "I planted the bomb and then…" he thought of the cold feeling washing through him, his desperate attempt to stay conscious as he staggered far as possible from the bomb, "I guess I didn't get far enough away…got hit with the blast and knocked out. I guess the blood…" He thumbed through his memories, searching for the right ones, and when he couldn't find a proper explanation for his appearance, he went with the best lie he could find instead, "We had to fight the entire way to the alien thing; most of it's not mine."

"What about the others? Where are they?" Anthony questioned.

"I don't know," Jimmy repeated, "We made four bombs, we needed to lay them at different areas around the mass, spread out the explosive force, maximize the impact, and we had to ignite them manually at the same time. So we separated. Rick and Ben had dangerous routes to take, so they had to go alone, and I knew the way I needed to go would be easier for me to reach by myself, so I sent Roman and his friends together with the last bomb, safety in numbers, you know?"

There was a sound nearby, someone shuffling into the room. Jimmy shifted to get a better look, a slight man stood in the doorway, scruffy, dark-hair clipped close to his scalp. Pope and Anthony gave him their attention.

"More Skitters are leaving the area," the man reported, "We should probably move soon. Enemy units are light now, and there's no telling if they plan on coming back."

"Right. We'll get moving soon as Jimmy is feeling up to it," Anthony returned.

"Really? Because I think we should get moving, and if Jimmy wants to come, he should put his feelings aside and focus on keeping up," Pope suggested.

"You know, Pope, he's pretty much the reason we have any chance of getting out of this current mess alive, I think he deserves a few minutes," Anthony argued.

"It's okay, Anthony, I can move if we need to," Jimmy said, struggling to his feet and putting all of his effort into making it look far less painful and strained a movement than it actually was, "But we have to find Ben and the others. How long ago did the bombs go off?"

"Almost three hours ago," Anthony answered, "Where are they? Do you know? You guys set up a rendezvous point or something?"

"No," Jimmy murmured, dropping his eyes and silently reprimanding himself for not thinking of that during the planning, "We used the sewers to get the bombs planted. They were all supposed to wait where I left them in the sewers to be picked up. I had Ben see where they all were so that if anything happened to me he could still round them up and get them out of here. Assuming Ben followed the plan when I didn't show up, he gathered the others and then they probably left the sewers and made for the 2nd Mass."

"You think your little green friend followed the plan?" Pope wondered, examining his nails as though the current conversation were not worth his time. Anthony fixed Jimmy with an inquisitive expression.

"I don't know," Jimmy murmured, shrugging, "He didn't know where I'd gone, so stumbling around enemy territory looking for me after all hell's broke loose wouldn't exactly be the ideal option but…"

"But Ben has a very different understanding of 'ideal'," Anthony finished, muttering something that sounded like a string of curse words under his breath.

"You'd think the sons of a professor would be a hell of a lot smarter than those three Mason brats are," Pope remarked distantly, ignoring the darted glances of reproach from both Anthony and Jimmy, "Hopefully the others have enough brains to abandon the half-Cootie to his fool's errand, and we only lose the one idiot and not the whole lot of them. Did I say hopefully? Reverse that, hopefully we lose them all. Less mouths to feed and whining little…"

"I'm not leaving unless I know for certain Ben went back to reunite with the 2nd Mass," Jimmy stated quick and firm, though his voice's harsh rasp and inability to rise above a decibel at that moment, not to mention his sorry state drenched in blood and the gaping wound in his head, made the vow a little pathetic sounding, "Otherwise, I'm staying here and looking for him."

"Excellent. You stay here, look for your Cootie spawn – try the pound, they pick up mutts off the street all the time – and we'll leave," Pope declared giddily, "It's nothing personal, kid, but you'll only slow us down anyways, and that way we don't have to worry about your whining…"

"Pope, shut up," Anthony snapped, then setting Jimmy with a stern look, "That's not our best choice right now. I know you're eager to find out Ben's condition and whereabouts, but with no real certainty of whether he stayed or left, and no notion of a starting point to look for him in this place, you're just going to be walking around blind in an enemy stronghold. Our best bet is to return to the 2nd Mass, get our bearings straight, figure out where they are, if they're there than we don't waste our time out here and if Ben didn't return, and then we'll know for certain he's still here somewhere and we can figure out a rescue mission. Until then…"

The situation felt all too familiar, and a sense of dread spread thick through Jimmy, swirling in his stomach with a vile sickness. He thought of sitting in Dr. Glass's medical van, learning that the 2nd Mass spent two days, precious time that they could have used to relocate fast and far away, searching for him and the question that taste of bitter cotton that he had to scrape off his tongue: _If it had been Ben…?_

"And if no one wants to come back and look for them?" Jimmy demanded, shooting daggers Pope's direction, to the man standing awkwardly in the doorstep, to Anthony concerned and sympathetic, "Come on, Anthony, and think about it! Ben, Rick, the other four unharnessed kids, all of them together lost…no one back at camp wants them there, they don't like them, they don't care about them. And you know exactly what they're going to say, in one failed mission, the 2nd Mass dumps its entire razorback problem, guilt-free and hands clean. Fuck, nobody will want to come back and search for them."

"He's got a valid point," Pope noted, clapping his hands together and gleefully remarking, "Not that anyone here cares about those six half-breeds either. You're on a soap box preaching to the wrong choir, boy."

"You know Captain Weaver would never leave fighters behind like that," Anthony protested.

"And we both know Weaver will always ultimately make the choice that best ensures the group's survival," Jimmy returned heatedly, "If that means leaving Ben and the others here, then he'll have to make that choice, and you know…I know that's the choice he's going to make…to pull the group out of here, far, far away from here while there's still a chance…no hesitating, no looking back…if I leave here, and Ben didn't…I know…I know that means I won't ever see him again and that's not going to happen. I'm staying until I know where he is. If you and the others want to leave, than leave me, I can move through the city easier by myself anyways."

"Sounds good to me," Pope chirped.

"We aren't leaving anyone," Anthony argued.

"Then help me look for Ben," Jimmy cried, exasperated.

Anthony sighed and the man in the doorway shifted uncomfortably. Pope rolled his eyes.

"Um…" the man at the doorway began, all eyes turning on him, "You said you used the sewers to get around the district?"

"Yeah," Jimmy mumbled.

"Isn't it like a maze down there? How'd you get around…?"

"Oh…Tector, this is Jimmy," Anthony suddenly introduced, "He's the orphan from Dorchester…?"

"Ah, I see," Tector murmured, dropping his gaze again, a small semblance of realization spreading in his features.

"Yeah, that's right, I'm the fucking sewer rat from Dorchester," Jimmy muttered, turning his cheek and glaring at the far wall. He really was getting tired of people talking about him at camp, spreading his personal business around. He didn't even want to think about which of the men in that room, if not all of them, knew the full extent of his relationship with Ben and what they really thought of his determination to stay and find the missing 'razorbacks'.

"No, I was just thinking," Tector faltered, shrugged, "2nd Mass is still pretty bogged down if the numbers on those units is right in my head and a lot of those troops are probably going to be heading right back this direction soon as they get wind that their giant shiny ball is broken. Getting back to the group might prove difficult, unless…"

"Unless we can use the sewers," Anthony finished for him, and then smirked darkly at Pope, "I think we just found a reason why we can't leave Jimmy behind."

"Great. Now convince me why we don't just toss him down the drain and force him to show us the way home?" Pope demanded.

"Well, for starters, you'd have to get through me if you plan on 'tossing' him anywhere," Anthony growled.

"That one's easy enough, what's number two?" Pope sneered, leering at Anthony.

"Number two is, gun to my head, I won't leave without Ben," Jimmy spoke up, attempting to raise his voice as loudly as he could, despite the ripples of pain it shot down his throat.

"You're really starting to annoy me, kid," Pope complained, and Jimmy hid his grimace, last thing he needed in his life was to be on Pope's vindictive radar, "Great. I guess we're staying and mounting a search and rescue then. So how are we going to play this? We just wander through the alien infested streets screaming 'Marco'?"

"Jimmy, we have to think about this realistically, alright? This is needle in a haystack, right here. We'll stay for a little while, do the best we can, but we can't take too long," Anthony said, "I'll give you an hour, two at most, but then we really have to meet up with the 2nd Mass, and I promise, if it comes down to it, I will do everything I can to ensure that a search party comes back here."

"If one doesn't, then I will," Jimmy replied grimly.

"I know," Anthony softly conceded, and then announced, "Our best bet is to get to higher ground and get a look around the district, see if we can't spots the kids wandering the streets. Jimmy, you're sure they would leave the sewers…?"

"They wouldn't know how to get around down there without me," Jimmy answered, shrugging and sheepishly noting, "I was their guide, without me their lost."

"There's no possibility they could've figured out how to get around in the sewers on their own?" Tector wondered.

"I don't know. I doubt it. Took me two months to learn the ins and outs of Dorchester's sewer systems, and I had someone teaching me at first," Jimmy explained, then winced, chastising himself for spilling too much information, and hastily moving on in hopes of hiding his slip of tongue, "I think if they are still here, the only reason for it would be to search for me, so they would probably be hovering somewhere around where the structure was, it would of been my last known location."

"Right, so that'll be our first stop," Anthony decided, carefully moving to help Jimmy towards the door, hand loosely gripping the young boy's shoulder, not too intrusive but providing a much needed support for the obviously unstable Jimmy, "Tector, take Boon and run scout. Pope, mind guarding flank while I keep an eye on Jimmy?"

"As a matter of fact, I do," Pope muttered bitterly, obviously sore of the entire turnout, "But since you asked so nicely, mister police officer, I think I'll make an exception for you and rat boy."

They stepped outside where three other fighters were waiting, a couple men and a frizzy haired, stone-faced woman. The three straightened, at attention, when Anthony and Pope exited the building. Tector moving to stand with a scrawny looking blond-haired man, whispering something to him, most likely relaying Anthony's earlier orders. Jimmy recognized the gathered adults, though not by name, he knew them all to be some of the most vocally anti-_anything_ alien around camp; they propagated some of the worst theories about Ben and the other unharnessed kids. Suddenly the air felt a lot colder, and a sickness swirled in Jimmy's gut, if there was any group least likely to want to stick around very long searching for the six most unwanted kids in camp, it would be these people.

"We have six missing teenagers in the area, and a general idea where they might be," Anthony announced, "We're going to spend a couple hours looking for them, then Jimmy here is going to take us back to the 2nd Mass using the sewers, the kid knows his way around down there, and we can get back to camp quick and easy."

The bulkier of the men gathered gave Jimmy a reproving, yet knowing glare and demanded, "What 'teenagers' are we looking for exactly?"

"2nd Mass teenagers," Anthony clarified, with a hint of a threat in his tone that made it painstakingly obvious the man's suspicions about those teenagers' identities were correct, "If you don't want to help look, you're more than welcome to head back to camp on your own, but I guarantee, you'll wish you'd come with us. Anyone want to go ahead and leave now then?"

The adults all shifted uncomfortably, some averted their gaze, but none volunteered to leave.

"Good," Anthony declared, "Boon and Tector are scout; Pope is on flank with Crazy Lee, Lyle, bringing up the rear. We're heading back to where that alien structure stood; looking for a building that can put us up over the area. You ready to move Jimmy?"

"No," Jimmy whispered, then set his jaw and evenly returned, "I'm ready to find Ben."

* * *

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A/N: So, this chapter is actually very important-ish. All the chapters are important, I think, if you're paying attention anyhow. Also, I got to write a lot of Anthony is this chapter, I love Anthony, so yeah, expect me to give him a bigger role in the 2nd Mass than he got on the show (in my opinion, anyhow...later rant for a later time, maybe).

Let me know what you think!

Reviewers: SassySavanna190, he is a git. I love your UK slangage. I'm tired and rambling, ignore. Yeah, no one's life is roses and rainbows in my world. Roses and rainbows are for dead people and leprechauns. All I can say at this point is what I think I've already said at some point previously, and that is this: they are not flashbacks. The end. Wait, nope, there's more. Plenty more. Look forward to it, I know I do. Cookie97, you and me both on that bullying front. I'm glad you liked it despite. Bullying is one of my biggest pet peeves, it's kind of why I get in so much trouble with trolls on the net, I can't stand people harassing other people, I just got to say something...I get myself in trouble. Sigh. Caswiee, where's chapter 2 of your fic? Are you still working on it? I'm glad you liked Ben's vision thing. I'm kind of trying to bridge his past with his present feelings for Jimmy, probably not doing a good job of it because other stuffs happening in those vision/flash/blackout things too that I'm trying to hint at and not give too much away on at the same time and all I can honestly say is that whatever you think is happening is not happening and I need to call it a night.

See you guys next Sunday! Peace and beef jerky.


	43. Chapter 43

AN: Thank you to the reviewers, you guys are awesome!

And a thank you to Greg for being the beta, he's also awesome.

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XLIII.

Inside the sewers, with the dim light streaming through the manhole overhead, Ben checked the time. His blackout had taken a huge chunk from him; if everything went according to schedule for the plan then twenty minutes had passed since the bombs went off.

Five minutes.

Jimmy had told Ben to wait for five minutes and leave to retrieve the others if he never showed, but they'd never discussed what would happen if Ben didn't come back. Jimmy clearly wasn't in the sewers waiting, but Ben couldn't be certain if that was because Jimmy left to get the others, didn't return and was lying somewhere hurt, possibly trapped, or if he did return but left the sewers to look for Ben after those five minutes were up.

The only way Ben could determine to rule out at least one scenario was to backtrack to where the others were left. If they were still at their locations waiting, that would at least mean Jimmy hadn't gone to round them up, which would leave the two other options, that he either never returned or he went searching when Ben didn't return.

Getting back to where Kelsey and her group had been left proved difficult. Ben had done his best to make note of where they'd been left in the rush to put their plan in motion, but the situation had been stressful, and they were moving pretty fast, and Ben's senses were all so bogged down in the sewers as it was that he struggled just to put one foot in the other and not crash into a wall, memorizing a particular location might have been asking too much. When Ben reached the ladder, he wasn't certain it was the right one at first, but the manhole cover had been removed and when Ben peeked topside, he felt certain he was staring out at one of the explosions' origin points.

Ben went back in the sewers and called out for the four unharnessed teens a few minutes. He struggled to listen for sounds of them though all he could hear was the roar of water rushing all around. There was no hint of their presence, they were gone, which meant Jimmy had come to pick them up after all.

Ben hadn't expected that turn of events, and he wasn't sure of his feelings at the moment. On one hand, he was glad of the seeming confirmation that Jimmy had gotten through the plan without a hitch and was somewhere safe, yet at the same time, there was an inexplicable searing of pain seeping through his chest. Despite telling himself that he wouldn't have wanted Jimmy to do something so risky and dangerous, somehow it hurt that Jimmy hadn't gone to look for him.

Of course, there was also the possibility that Jimmy never showed up and in his and Ben's absence, Kelsey and her lot had decided to leave, maybe make their way back to camp or forge ahead with whatever ominous purpose brought them out there in the first place. Heading to Rick's location would give Ben certainty, Rick wouldn't leave without the others. At least, Ben didn't think that Rick would. Thoughts and emotions were overwhelming Ben though, and the stifling nature of the sewers was not helping matters. He felt just short of a panic attack and didn't know if he would be able to stagger to Rick's location. Every part of the sewers was blending together; the sound of water was drowning him, the air tasted stale and was hard to swallow – it felt precisely like his asthma attacks from childhood.

Ben climbed from the sewers, crawling out of the manhole and dragging himself several feet along the street. He lay against the pavement a moment, catching his breath, braced against the ground, and then he carefully lifted himself to his feet. Everything around him laid scorched black, scattered debris and rubble unidentifiable from what it had once been, before the explosion, before the war. Triumph of man lost in a single act of hopeful salvation – what did humanity really have left to sacrifice, what more tithe to pay for his continued existence?

Ben closed his eyes, took a deep breath, focused on the world around him. There were still Skitters in the area and a few Mechs, but their numbers had decreased significantly, and the ones near were too distracted to pay Ben any attention. It gave Ben a sense of relief. If the swarm of enemy in the area departed after the explosion, than that could possibly mean that the enemy attacking the 2nd Mass fell back as well. His brothers might be saved after all.

As for other forms of life, Ben couldn't pinpoint a single heartbeat. Breath trembled into his lungs.

Alone.

In all his time in that apocalyptic world, Ben never felt more alone than he did in that moment. It seemed unlikely that Jimmy would leave without him, but then, it also seemed unlikely that Jimmy would deviate from the plan and puts others' lives at risk searching the ruins for him. Kelsey and her group wouldn't support staying and looking for Ben, and Rick…there was no telling what Rick would support at any given moment. His volunteering to come out to that crumbling district with Ben in the first place had been sudden and unexpected.

Ben rubbed a palm across his face, smearing sweat and dirt and blood. He felt at a loss; horrible fear squeezing his heart. All evidence pointed to Jimmy gathering the others and leaving, but then, it could also indicate that the others left of their own accord, without Jimmy or Ben, which could mean that Jimmy was still somewhere in the area, hurt or even possibly…

Ben shook his head and growled low in his throat. He needed to trust in Jimmy's capabilities. Jimmy had been in far worse situations, and managed to walk away, there was no reason to believe that he hadn't done the same this time. Maybe it meant that Jimmy left without Ben, but Ben could deal with those odd feelings like betrayal later – Jimmy had expected Ben to leave without him, there was no reason that Ben shouldn't have expected the same from Jimmy.

For now, Ben needed to get back to the 2nd Mass, needed to learn his brothers' fates.

There was no telling how thick with enemy the route home would be. The original plan had saw Jimmy leading the group through the sewers back to the 2nd Mass but without Jimmy, Ben had no choice but to return topside. Getting to the district with Rick in his wake had been easy enough, not surprisingly, they'd worked well together, picking up one another's very small amount of slack, but Ben predicted he could move just as easily – if not more so – by himself.

Figuring out direction had never been intuitive to Ben before. His father had taught him a few tricks for determining where north was, but admittedly, since the harness had been removed Ben found he had an almost animalistic attunement to the world around him. He didn't need to think about it, he just knew the cardinal directions. Without so much as a precursory glance to the surrounding environment and any possible land markers, Ben spun on heel and headed the direction he instinctively knew pointed to the 2nd Mass.

…

There almost seemed no need for scouts or flanking guards, the area was near devoid of all alien units. Jimmy leaned heavily against Anthony as he walked, forcing his mind from the pain flooding through his body at every step. He kept his focus on thoughts of Ben, on finding Ben. Part of him wanted to believe that when he didn't show up, Ben gathered up the others and headed back to the 2nd Mass, but he couldn't shake that knowing feeling, that Ben would go back to search for him.

Pope picked a building out, and the group ascended to the roof. They could see parts of the street where the structure had stood and it didn't take long before they spotted movement. It was momentary, barely a flash before darting out of sight, but discernible as life, and Jimmy felt his pulse quicken, wondering if the cosmos had finally decided to let up and give him a break for once.

"Could've been Skitters," Boon pointed out, as they made plans to head off the sighting on the other end of the street.

"Between them and these 'teenagers' we're looking for, is there a difference?" Lyle returned.

"That's why you've got the gun, genius," Pope muttered, "If it's Skitters, we'll just shoot them."

"If it's not Skitters, can we still shoot them?" Crazy Lee wondered.

A few of the adults gave Jimmy jeering looks, obviously more interested in his reaction to their words than the actual sentiments expressed therein. Jimmy set his jaw and turned his face away, ignoring their snickers. He'd made his choice to stand by Ben amidst peers who exerted far greater pressures months ago, the roughhewn adults around him couldn't come close to shaking his resolve, and he wasn't about to give them the smallest of flinches for their efforts.

"I vote yes," Pope decided.

"No," Anthony groaned.

"Can we just go now?" Jimmy growled.

Heading out on the streets once more, they broke up into groups. Pope led Crazy Lee up and around the street corner, Tector and Boon headed off another direction, and Anthony with Lyle, took Jimmy down another. Their hope was to converge on the unidentifiable life form they saw scurrying around from all viable escape routes, ensuring that they didn't miss whoever that movement could be attributed to, be it Ben and the others, or Skitters and Mech. Though the plan should've worked, they maneuvered through the streets and met at the center without coming across the possible figure they'd seen from the rooftop.

"This is ridiculous. Can we go home now?" Pope complained.

"We're near where the alien blob stood. Let's go back there," Jimmy suggested, "We saw movement in these streets, that means I was right, they're here looking for me."

"Or a few straggler Skitters are here trying to clean up the mess you made," Tector countered, "Pope is right, we should leave. We've been here long enough, if you can get us back to the 2nd Mass faster, then quit fooling around and do it, they probably need us right now…"

"I'm not fooling around," Jimmy grumbled.

"They might be right, Jimmy, we have no idea how to even go about…" Anthony started.

"You said we'd stay for a couple hours, it hasn't even been an hour," Jimmy cut in, petulant, "We saw movement down here, at least can we find out if it was them!"

"How much longer are we going to humor this kid? We all know what he's thinking with right now, and it's not his head," Lyle grunted.

"There are six people lost out here, not just Ben," Jimmy stammered protest, flustering and tipping his chin down to hide the color tinting his cheeks.

"No, Jimmy, there are six _fighters_ lost out here," Anthony returned gently, "Capable of getting back to the 2nd Mass on their own. I know it's not easy, not knowing the status of someone you care about…"

"That isn't all this is about," Jimmy snapped, grasping desperately at threads, "I'm responsible for Roman and the others, Anthony, they're not completely trained and they trusted me to get them out of here alive, it's why they dragged me out here in the first place. If anything happens to them out here, it'll be my fault, and…and…I just…" he dropped his eyes, and whispered, "I don't want any more blood on my hands."

"Take my word for it, kid, the more you get on your hands the better, that way it all blends together, easier to get used to," Pope recommended, smirking viciously, "Eventually, you'll start to like it there, kind of a familiar feeling to it; warm and cozy, almost, just like home."

Jimmy scowled, brow crinkling, chewing his inner cheek as the older man's words swarmed into him.

"Stop talking to him, Pope," Anthony warned, placing his hands on Jimmy's shoulders and saying, "We'll double back to the structure, alright, take a look around, maybe call out a bit. These kids have super hearing, though, Jimmy, and if they're looking for you that means they're listening also. If they are here, they would have heard us – these guys aren't exactly subtle – and they would have come to us by now. So if we don't see them and they aren't there, then we _have_ to assume they headed back to camp and leave."

"Okay. Fine," Jimmy mumbled, shaking his head and glaring at the ground.

"Listen…if something happened to _any_ of them, you're not responsible," Anthony said in a low voice, "They made their choices."

Jimmy nodded but didn't reply.

They trekked back towards the block of city the structure had occupied, bits of debris and scorch marks scattered around, marking where the edges had been. The area under where the mass had stood was exposed now; much of it empty and vast, a flat plane, but nearing the center was an oddity.

Springing out of the ground were plants – predominantly red and green, at a distance they appeared to be any other overgrowth now taking hold on the unmaintained cities of the world, but as the group formed a tight unit, and moved swiftly closer, they could see that the plant-life was unlike anything any of them had ever seen on Earth: little purple vines dotted with green spots crawling along the ground, red flowers with dual-pronged spikes jutting out of their heads growing up out of fluffy pale green bushes, yellow shrubs with bright blue orbs dangling off their branches – a tiny alien garden.

"What is this?" Jimmy asked, glancing nervously at Anthony.

"I'm no expert or anything, but I'm going to go with plants," Pope supplied grimly.

"I've never seen plants look like that," Boon commented.

"And you've seen every plant in the world?" Crazy Lee replied, a slight hitch to her words, "They got plants that smell like rotting carcasses and eat people out in Africa…how much you want to bet this is some exotic strain of flower that escaped a rich man's garden after the invasion. Probably comes from China or something."

"Seems a little too coincidental that they're growing up where that alien thing-a-ma-bob was at, though, don't it?" Tector mentioned.

"We can't worry about it right now," Anthony decided, eyeing the unfamiliar stalks warily, "Let's just keep our distance, finish looking for these kids and then get the hell out of here."

They started back towards the streets, but froze at the slap of footfall nearby, swiftly falling into a battle formation, standing back-to-back with guns at ready. Lyle caught sight of them first, a few figures ducking and dodging on the outskirts of the street, but Jimmy was the one that recognized them, commanding the others to lower their weapons, which most of them didn't, as he called out to the group attempting to move stealthily passed.

"Hey, Roman, Gia," Jimmy yelled as loud as he dared, mindful that they were still in enemy territory, wagging his hand overhead, "You guys, over here!"

It was several seconds later that Roman stepped out into the open, gun dangling at his side. Tentatively, Douglas and Gia followed behind. They all faltered several yards back, warily eyeing the group and Jimmy glanced at the haggard fighters around him, realizing the three unharnessed teens' reluctance.

"Stay here," Jimmy quietly told Anthony, just barely loud enough for the others to hear, "I'll go talk to them…they don't really trust you guys."

"Ah, well, tell them the feeling is mutual," Pope grit out and Anthony shot him a warning glare.

Jimmy took a few steps towards Roman and the other two darting anxious looks all around them. Partway towards them, Jimmy faltered, scanning the area behind those three teenagers, expectant for more movement. He frowned, stalked the rest of the distance between them.

"Where were you? Where did they come from?" Roman spoke first.

Jimmy glanced back over his shoulder at the group of adults. Lyle still had a gun trained on the three teenagers, Pope examined his fingernails, Anthony swatted a fly buzzing around his face, Crazy Lee stared out at the demolished buildings around them, Tector and Boon exchanged low whispers, darting unreadable looks the teenagers' direction.

"I guess the 2nd Mass fled the community center, and they're taking heavy fire now. That lot headed out here when they had a chance, intent on taking down the alien mass, but we beat them to it," Jimmy explained, then ducked his head and sheepishly continued, "I…uh…had some difficulties with my part in the plan and…um…well, I didn't make it back. Anthony and them found me, though, and we came back to look for you. Uh…where is..." he bit his tongue on Ben's name, "Everyone else?"

"Don't know," Roman answered earnestly, there was a strange tone in his words, "We got through our part alright, but no one ever came for us. When we got tired of waiting, we back tracked to where we thought Rick was supposed to be, but he wasn't there..."

"We thought you guys left without us," Gia confessed in a shaky voice, her eyes on the ground, hands trembling noticeably, wrapped tight enough round her gun to whiten her knuckles.

Suddenly, the three's demeanors and expression came into focus for Jimmy. It was obvious in Gia's features that she'd been crying. Douglas looked terse, he stood closely beside her, but his eyes were distant, slightly red around the edges. Roman stared openly at Jimmy, a strange, unfamiliar softness in his eyes and around his mouth that, like everything else about Roman, Jimmy couldn't quite decipher and wasn't entirely sure how it made him feel. Then something else occurred to Jimmy, something that should've been obvious from the moment he'd seen them, should've been the first question he'd asked.

"Where's Kelsey?" he blurted out.

The three immediately averted their gazes; a guilty hush fell over them. Jimmy narrowed his eyes to slender slits, folding his arms over his chest.

"_Where_ is Kelsey?" he repeated, more firmly, then questioned, a tiny break in his voice, "Did something…happen…to her?"

"We can't tell you," Douglas said.

"Be quiet," Roman hissed.

"What? What can't you tell me? Is she hurt? Is she…?" Jimmy demanded. He trailed off, looked at each of them uncertainly, and asked, "Why are we here? Why did you guys want to come here?"

"Kelsey is fine. She just left somewhere," Roman said, "That's all…"

"Left where?" Jimmy cried, suddenly panic-stricken. He thought of the peculiarity of Kelsey's behavior since day one, she'd been the most inconsistent of the unharnessed teens, and now she was gone, just left, who-the-fuck-knew-why-or-where, "Why are we out here? What is…?"

All Kelsey's talk of the harness in that truck on the way out to the shopping complex, of remembering being harnessed and wanting to make a grand gesture of disconnect from the aliens, the four vehemently insisting that Ben couldn't be trusted, that he could still be under alien control, Roman's story about Ben's role in all of their harnessing, suddenly rushed at Jimmy, and a strange, sickening thought occurred to him.

"Are you working with the aliens?" Jimmy asked.

"What? Fuck no," Roman spat out, heated, reaching towards the other boy, "Jimmy, you just have to trust…"

"I don't have to fucking trust anything you say," Jimmy seethed, pulling away, ignoring the pained look, for once an emotion Jimmy could read in Roman, that flickered across the older boy's features, "Give me one reason right now why I shouldn't tell those people back there that you're all possible traitors…"

"She went to look for the signal," Gia interrupted, slapping a hand over her own mouth and looking apologetic to the two boys now sending her exasperated looks, "We have to tell him…if he understands he won't betray us. You won't betray us, right, Jimmy?"

"You can't tell anyone about the signal," Douglas whispered harshly to Jimmy.

"What signal? Is this the same one Rick and Ben were talking about?" Jimmy questioned.

"Maybe. Who knows what those razorbacks were hearing," Roman muttered.

"It got faint when we blew up the structure," Gia explained quietly, "But it was so loud before that…and Kelsey…she could barely concentrate...it was so loud."

"Gia, stop telling him things," Douglas exclaimed, grabbing her gently by the shoulder and placing a hand over her mouth. She squirmed out of his grasp, brushing his hand away and replacing it with her own, staring petulant at the ground.

"Jimmy, we got to get going," Anthony called.

Jimmy darted a look over his shoulder, gestured with his hand for a few more seconds. Anthony groaned, throwing his hands up and shaking his head, the other adults anxious at his back.

"This signal…only we've been hearing it. Us, and the razorbacks," Roman whispered explanation, "If people around camp knew we were hearing this…"

"They'd panic," Jimmy realized, "They'd want to kick all of you out or worse..."

"Ben included," Douglas added pointedly and Jimmy lowered his eyes, frowning, his stomach turning in despair.

"Why didn't you guys tell me about this sooner?" Jimmy demanded.

"I think you're asking the wrong alien altered people," Roman grumbled, folding his hands in front of himself and perking a brow, a cool smirk on his lip, "We're not the ones obligated to tell you nothing about ourselves. Seems to me your mutt might need to go back to obedience training, he's got a bit of trouble with the 'speak' command."

"And you guys have no clue where he is?" Jimmy asked quietly, looking out at their surroundings, then frantically back to Anthony and the others waiting somewhat impatiently on them.

"Not a clue. Though if I had to take a guess…" Roman muttered.

"Shut up," Jimmy growled, "He didn't go off with the aliens. He didn't leave me here to die. He didn't turn traitor. Whatever you're about to say, he didn't."

"He's not here, he's not in the area, what other explanation could there be?" Roman challenged.

"I don't know. I told him if I didn't come back to leave without me, go and pick you guys up," Jimmy mumbled, "Maybe he got lost looking for all of you. Or maybe…maybe you guys didn't wait long enough…"

"We waited half-an-hour for you guys to show up," Douglas complained, ''You're going to tell us it took him half-an-hour to return from a place it took you guys five, ten minutes tops, to get to?"

"Maybe…I don't know…maybe he waited longer for me than I told him to," Jimmy whispered, shaking his head furious at the ground, grinding his inner cheek between his teeth. A new thought occurring to him, one he didn't like, one that seemed more likely with each passing minute and each mysterious piece of information, about what could've possibly happened to Ben.

"The only explanation is that he decided to leave without us," Roman muttered.

"Or maybe he didn't decide anything," Jimmy whispered distractedly, heart hammering away in his chest.

They'd had their backs to the wall, little to no choice, but in retrospect, leaving Ben alone might not have been the wisest choice, not in a high pressure situation, with emotions running high and everything at stake, the kind of boiling pot situation that seemed to cause Ben's volatile outbursts, the ones he said were out of his control and beyond his recollections. His explosive had gone off, it must have to take the alien structure down, but if he'd lost control afterwards there was no telling where he went or what he did from there.

"What does that mean?" Gia wondered.

"Nothing," Jimmy muttered, "Come on. We need to get going then."

Jimmy led the way back to Anthony and the other fighters. Roman, Gia, and Douglas trailed hesitantly behind him, hovering a few feet away with Jimmy between them and the 2nd Mass fighters. They all eyed one another reproachfully.

"My math might not be so great, but I only count three, and I thought we were looking for six," Crazy Lee noted.

"Where are the rest?" Anthony asked, surveying the three teenagers, dusted with debris and sweat and looking a lot worse for wear than usual.

"Ben never showed up to meet them so they went looking for Rick and he wasn't where he was supposed to be – by then it would have been forty minutes, he probably got anxious waiting and headed back to the 2nd Mass alone…he didn't really want to be out here in the first place, and Kelsey…" Jimmy started explanations.

"We lost Kelsey looking for you," Roman spoke up. Jimmy glanced back at him and he perked a brow, a silent message to 'play along'.

"Yeah. They…um…" Jimmy grimaced, glared at the ground, "Lost her looking for me."

"Great," Anthony sighed, saying in a low, sympathetic voice, "Jimmy, that wasn't your fault."

Jimmy shook his head and said nothing.

"Are we done with this missing person drill then?" Pope bellowed question, "Because I'd really like to get back where the giant bugs are and start squashing a few, you understand."

"And a fifty percent recovery is not bad," Boon noted.

"Considering we were hoping for a zero percent recovery," Lyle muttered.

Jimmy shifted uncomfortably, positioning himself more fully in front of his three charges, as they darted tiny sharpened glowers the direction of those five grizzly adults.

"Jimmy…?" Anthony questioned.

Jimmy lowered his eyes, gave a short, stiff nod of his head.

The chances of finding Ben at that rate were slim to none, and if Ben really had lost control, it was possible his raging subconscious prompted him to seek out enemy units and slaughter them the way he'd done the other night. Majority of the enemy unit left in the area were still carrying out their assault on camp. That meant, whether by choice or not, it was most likely Ben headed back to the 2nd Mass.

"Finally," Pope groaned, "Not that this hasn't been a beautiful practice in time-wasting but I'd really like to focus on more productive things now."

Jimmy scowled, as they all trudged into formation and sought out a sewer entrance. He couldn't let himself hope that Ben was back at camp, he would be too devastated to get there and find the other boy still missing, and no chance of a search and rescue being set up. But Jimmy had meant what he told Anthony at the café, if it came down to it, he would stay behind and find Ben on his own…and then he would punch Ben for being an idiot. He smirked wryly, a terrible feeling churning in his gut. Yeah, that's exactly what he would do.

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AN: Sigh, yeah, so this isn't going to be a long ass separation ala First Patrol some fifteen chapters or more (I can't remember how many it was...), for any of you that might've been fretting. It kind of happened on accident, actually. I didn't think the boys would be separated at this part but they were.

Anyhow, please let me know what you think!

Reviewers: Sassysavanna190, I'm glad you laughed and weren't thinking I should be committed or sent to AA meetings. I do apologize for the oddity of my author's notes last chapter, though, that's kind of what happens when I decide to update at four in the morning. Rambling like a lunatic. Anthony is a great character, I love Anthony. And I am having way too much fun writing banter between him and Pope. I guess they did uncover a few things along the way. Your random questions: Jimmy pregnant is a bit weird. My first thought is...he's a boy, kind of missing the necessary machinery. I got a whole rant on Mpreg stories, to be honest, I don't really like them for several reasons, I've actually never read one I usually back right out when I see that warning, but to me they unintentionally support anti-gay arguments, that being, "same sex relationships aren't valid because they don't produce offspring". I know most Mpreg writers write those stories because they think "oh, a pregnant man would be funny", but there is also that side of it where they're, either intentionally or unintentionally, attempting to solve this "problem", "validate the relationship" so to speak, and thus giving credence to the argument that only couplings that can produce offspring are valid and meaningful. Sorry, off on a tangent. As for Tom's reaction to Ben's new relationship status, I guess you'll just have to read to find out. :) Cookie97, lol, I'm not sure what word you were looking for, but I'm going to assume it was a positive one because of your love for it. Techtor and Anthony are good characters. I'll admit, I do like all of the characters from Falling Skies, mostly, I just never much cared for the things the writers did with them.

Right. Next Sunday. I need food now.


	44. Chapter 44

A/N: Got to be quick, I have food in the oven...

Thank you reviewers, you guys rock!

And a thanks to Greg, though he didn't get me back edits, busy having fun in Canada(?) I'm guessing, and I had no time to proof, so apologies in advance if the chapter is **really** bad with the typos and whatnot.

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XLIV.

Reaching the small neighborhood where Ben had left the 2nd Mass proved more difficult than he expected. There were still massive numbers of units in the area, including a large number of Mechs which were seemingly gathered in one section of the neighborhood. Ben had to hide himself a lot of times along the road back, ducking into bushes and bramble, watching through slightly parted branches as hordes of Skitters scampered in varying directions, though he resorted to using his blade a few times, overall, the trek was just arduous and slow go. Once near the 2nd Mass's base camp, Ben found the Community Center overrun by Skitters. He was momentarily disheartened, but he slipped through the neighborhoods, listening every so often until he found sounds that were undeniably human.

There was a small group of survivors holed up in one of the houses, though Ben couldn't hear any one person in particular. For obvious reasons, they were all determined to remain hushed, most likely relying on hand signals for minor communications but otherwise, probably pressed securely in cramped places, whilst silently hoping the alien units would eventually determine enough humans dead for one day and move on. Slaying a stray Skitter along the way, Ben slunk towards the house then crept inside, halting with his hands held high in front of the business end of a rifle.

"Ben?" a familiar voice hissed recognition, grabbing Ben by the collar and dragging him into the darkened 'safety' of the house. Small faces peeked from shadowed corners and Ben grimaced, mostly children, save for a few women and the older man that gripped Ben tight at the shoulder.

"Uncle Scott," Ben greeted in a low voice, "Where's the rest of the 2nd Mass?"

"All sorts of places," Uncle Scott grumbled, leading the way farther into the house.

A small figure, Matt, crawled out from under the window and rushed towards Ben, halting just short of tossing slim arms round his waist, though the desire was obvious in severely distraught features. Without thinking, Ben reached out and crushed Matt against his side, letting the relief wash through him. One down, two to find.

Ben, Matt secure at his side, followed Uncle Scott into the kitchen where his wife, Kate, Dr. Glass, Lourdes, and Jamil along with another older man, whose name escaped Ben, were all gathered around an island countertop. Dr. Glass briefly touched her hand to Ben's shoulder when he was near, her expression softened and contorted with an odd emotion, something like sympathy, and Ben felt his heart drop.

"What's been going on?" Ben wondered, shrugging off the ominous feeling that came with Dr. Glass's expression and turning his attention to the others.

"Enemy overwhelmed us at the community center, we were forced to relocate. Dai and some other fighters volunteered to stay back, hold them off the best they could while we detonated several packs of C4 on the opposite side," Kate explained. She looked haggard, and there was a great deal of blood and bandage across her one side, and wrapped round her head. Everyone in the room had a few scrapes it seemed.

"We fell back to a church," Lourdes whispered, fidgeting with the loose strands of hair falling across her face, "There were so many people missing…"

Jamil had his hand placed in the small of her back, and he began moving it in soothing circles when she spoke up.

"It was only a matter of time before the enemy overwhelmed us there too," Uncle Scott continued, "Weaver figured he'd try and get as many civilians out as possible, broke us up into smaller groups with a couple fighters a piece, plan was we'd go in different directions, look for a way out while the rest of the fighters tackled the bulk of the enemy head on, hopefully provide a distraction."

"It didn't work," Ben surmised, looking at the pale faces around the room. He hadn't spotted a fighter amongst them, which could only mean one thing: they'd been lost in the thrall.

"Some of the groups might've made it through, there's no way of knowing," the nameless man murmured.

"We thought there might be hope a couple hours back, the enemy units started to…to taper off. We've spotted fewer packs of Skitters, a lot less Mechs," Uncle Scott went on, "But there's still too many in the area. We'd never make it through without a few fighters."

"A couple hours back…? That was probably when the alien structure went down," Ben mused.

"Went down?" Uncle Scott pressed, his brow perked. The others straightened curiously at that too.

"Yeah. We blew it up," Ben explained.

"I knew it," Matt grinned, and Ben absently ruffled the younger boy's hair.

"With…what…? How?" Uncle Scott stammered, as far as everyone in the room knew, no explosives went out with Ben and Rick.

"Jimmy made a bomb," Ben said. There was a strange shift in the atmosphere of the room, an odd mixture of sudden relief and surprise.

"Jimmy…he's…alive?" Dr. Glass carefully questioned. Ben peeked at her, and then with a jolt, realized her expression earlier.

"Yeah…well…" Ben faltered, heart hammering erratic against his chest, eyes dropping as he murmured, "I don't know. The other four kids that were harnessed, they…uh…they took Jimmy and followed after me and Rick to the alien structure. When we realized the 2nd Mass was under assault, and that taking down that structure might be the best way to help, Jimmy built a bomb…four bombs, actually, and we had to split up to detonate them all at once."

"Jimmy built a bomb? Well…wait…which one is Jimmy?" Uncle Scott wondered, looking quizzically at the others in the room.

"He's one of the older fighters, isn't he? Was in the army, walks with a limp on his left side," Jamil provided.

"No, no, that's John. He's talking about Jimmy," Dr. Glass corrected, slowing the sudden hot simmer in Ben's veins at their ignorance to the identity of a fighter who less than a month ago had risked his life to save the entire group, "Young teenager, an orphan from Dorchester, spends a lot of his time with Anthony and Dai. My God, Ben, we all thought that he…at the church, when he couldn't be accounted for…"

"I figured," Ben admitted, mumbling distantly, "But he was with me out at the structure. Last I saw him he was okay, and everything seemed to suggest that he was fine when I decided to head back here…"

"We'll sort that out later then," Uncle Scott interjected, obviously sensing the subject to be a bit touchy for Ben and with Jimmy not present, it suggested some very unpleasant scenarios of what might've occurred out at the structure, "Right now we need to think about getting these children somewhere safe. We don't have any fighters, but maybe with you here…"

"I'll do what I can, but I don't know how much help I'll be," Ben agreed.

"I can help too," Matt piped up, but Ben silenced him, placing a light hand atop his head.

"What are you hoping for him to do, Scott?" Kate wondered, worry edging her tone, "There's a lot in our group, enemy units are heavy outside…you said yourself we would need a few fighters to get us out of here, and, now, I understand people say this boy is capable of miraculous things, but there are limits to what even he can do."

Ben made a face, but remained silent. He didn't like the implication in her word, that he couldn't help them, get them to safety.

"I think we need to try reconnecting with as many of the 2nd Mass as we can," Dr. Glass suggested, glancing at Ben, "Would you be able to find any of them?"

"I was lucky to find you guys," Ben replied, frowning, "No ideas on where Weaver and the rest of the fighters might be holed up? Did they stay in the church or…?"

"Not a clue," the nameless man grumbled.

"How many are in the group?" Ben wondered, deciding if they intended for him to be their great savior, or something like it, that he ought to get a better grasp of the situation.

"Well, there's all of us, then sixteen children in the other room, five more women, and two men," Lourdes answered softly, arms folded over her chest and eyes slightly downcast.

"Weapons?" Ben asked.

"Not many, just a few rifles and not much ammo…" Uncle Scott murmured, as Kate shook her head.

"Awesome," Ben sighed, pacing the room as his mind tumbled through various thoughts, most of which fled directly to his missing lover. Where the hell could Jimmy be?

From the other room a crash resounded, and then a scream pierced the air. Ben reacted on instinct, knife in hand and dodging around a sudden flood of children rushing through the kitchen doorway away from the obvious source of danger. It seemed time for planning was passed, as several Skitters scurried into the house, the enemy had found them.

Ben took down a Skitter latched on to one of the children's legs with a swift slice, yelling to a group of people cowering in the corner to run for it. A blow across his brow sent him tumbling to the ground and he barely had time to react when a Skitter claw reached for his neck. Out of the corner of an eye, he caught sight of Dr. Glass aiming the rifle at two Skitters across the room, sending a steady spray of bullets their direction until one dropped.

Ben sank his blade into the Skitter's arm and jabbed the creature in its vulnerable neck. It gagged, loosened its hold and stumbled back a few steps, and Ben finished it off, then shouldered his rifle and laid down the last two aliens in the room. He rushed to meet Dr. Glass and they ducked into the kitchen, tightly packed with the rest of the group, catching sight of more incoming Skitters along the way. He took up a defensive position in the entry way, preparing to fend off the advancing enemy.

"We have to move," Dr. Glass called to her uncle. The nameless man had procured the other rifle and took up the head of the group.

"Where are we going?" one of the women called, but no one could provide answer, and there wasn't any time. The nameless man and Uncle Scott led the way out of the house's front entry, ushering people out the door, as Ben protected the rear, bottle-necking the Skitters in the hallway and using his knife to fend them off one at a time.

Out in the streets again and everything was chaos. Uncle Scott, Kate, Dr. Glass, the nameless man and Ben made attempt to chorale the group, keeping them flanked on all sides, but Ben and Dr. Glass's gunfire from the living room moments before had attracted more enemy to them, forcing Ben to leave the rear guard and face advancing units head on. They had yet to draw a Mech though; Ben could hear dozens in the area, but clearly the monstrosities were distracted with other groups of 2nd Mass-ers. The nameless man hurried haphazardly, taking lead but moving without any direction, many of the young children had to sprint to keep up with the adults' long, quick strides.

"I can hear some fighters about five blocks northeast of here," Ben shouted instruction, slicing his blade across a Skitter's face and dodging its attempted strike. Lourdes gripped Matt's hand, tugging it insistently as he lingered behind, watching his older brother anxiously.

"Ben, come on," Matt cried.

"Go, I'm coming," Ben instructed heatedly, even as he was knocked backwards by an attacking Skitter.

Dr. Glass drove the critter off with gunfire and Ben scrambled to his feet. It seemed the enemy had dispersed again, and the group was given a small window of opportunity to move.

Some of the adults were crying, whimpering pathetically about the situation, a couple were whispering conspiratorially, making dark note of how quickly after Ben and Rick's departure the enemy had attacked and that it seemed too much of a coincidence that the enemy found them in that house shortly after Ben had arrived.

The children were stoic about the situation and moved without complaint, though several clung to one another as though for comfort or support. Matt seemed desperate to remain close to his brother, though Lourdes kept him secure between herself and Jamil.

"Why do you suppose the enemy retreated just now?" Uncle Scott mused quietly, falling back to briefly walk beside Ben.

"Why would I know?" Ben muttered return, "Probably because they figured we're easier pickings than some of the other 2nd Mass groups split off in other places around the area."

"Or maybe they noticed we had more children than adults," Uncle Scott suggested, his features scrunched in concern. He gently patted Ben's shoulder in departure, recommending, "Keep your guard up, I think we might expect one or two of those robots on our tail soon."

Ben gave a grim nod of understanding, swiping his knife clean on his leg and sheathing it, then shifting his rifle butt up firm against his shoulder.

…

Though Jimmy chalked it up to adrenaline and apprehension at Ben's well-being, he navigated the sewers back to the community center with a masterful ease, as though he'd laid out the labyrinthine system himself, and even Pope had to give a – albeit reluctant – comment of respect when they ascended the ladder and clambered out a drain grate into the familiar streets where they'd spent the past several weeks camped out. It was evident by sound and smells alone that the enemy was on the attack, and the group of battle-hardened fighters wasted no time making headway for the church where the 2nd Mass had last been seen. They were only slightly dismayed when they found the building engulfed in flame.

"What do you guys hear?" Jimmy demanded of Roman and the others, as Anthony took Pope and his boys to survey the church for signs of others, "Can you find the captain?"

"It's all just a lot of noise," Roman returned, features screwed in frustration, "There's gunfire and screaming coming from all over the place. How the fuck would you expect us to find anyone in all of this commotion? The super-hearing isn't actually helpful when there's so much white noise."

Jimmy bit his tongue on the sour note: _Ben could do it_.

"You just have to concentrate. You listened around camp all the time, didn't you? And civilians can be just as noisy…" Jimmy pointed out.

"It's different," Doug interjected, and Jimmy examined them all curiously. They had been silent most of the trek through the sewers. Their expressions were pale, drawn out, and there was something dampened about the atmosphere around them.

"Kelsey…" Jimmy started and Roman cleared his throat to silence Jimmy, as Anthony and the other fighters rejoined them.

"Looks like the 2d Mass cleared out of the church, probably purposely set it ablaze," Anthony remarked, "There are dead Skitters and some Mech scrap metal all around the backside, but no clear evidence of where they've gone."

"Weaver would've tried to get the civilians to safety," Jimmy said, "So…we just have to figure out where safety is and head that direction, right?"

"Maybe," Anthony murmured, frowning, and nodding to the three somber teens, "What about them? Can they hear anything?"

"No," Jimmy muttered glumly, "Too much going on, they can't pinpoint anyone."

"Well, l got an idea," Pope grumbled, "The bugs do a mighty fine job of finding our people and massacring the crap out of them, why don't we just follow them?"

There was a short silence.

"That's actually really smart," Anthony decided and a few reluctant agreements rippled through the group.

"Of course it's really smart. I came up with it, didn't I?" Pope said indignantly, sniffling loudly and puffing his chest up.

Finding a pack of Skitters didn't prove difficult; after all, the aliens weren't the ones trying to be stealthy. To minimalize the possibility of their being detected while following the enemy unit, they spread their group out thin, with Techtor, Crazy Lee, and Anthony taking turns in lead following the Skitters. Jimmy hung back with the three unharnessed teens, eyeing them worriedly as they trudged several yards back from the older fighters, they were growing increasingly melancholy. Jimmy suspected it had to do with their missing comrade, but her absence itself was more perturbing then their gloomy demeanors.

The vague explanation that Douglas and Gia provided for Kelsey leaving didn't sit well with Jimmy. None of the unharnessed teens had mentioned anything about a signal until that day, and Ben's silence on the topic especially bothered Jimmy. Every time it felt like things were making sense between them again, it seemed that something new had to pop up and punch Jimmy in the gut. A mysterious signal that only the unharnessed children could hear, coupled with Ben's sudden lapses in memory and control, mixed together into a frightening concoction of what-the-fuck-did-the-aliens-do-to-Ben? Jimmy didn't put much stock in Roman's story about Ben's role in the other teenagers' harnessing, but the possibility that, harness or no, Ben might still be under alien control loomed once more over Jimmy's head, as if it really ever left since the moment Ben first entered camp, and Jimmy couldn't help the frustration swarming inside of him, when would they ever be able to move past this fear? If…when the war was won and all of the aliens finally wiped from the planet? But then, if Ben was still under alien control, who would he be when that control was finally and completely broken?

Gunfire broke Jimmy from his dark train of thought, and shocked him back hard into reality. He shouldered his gun and raced towards the sound of combat, falling in line beside Anthony and the others to tear through enemy units that had gathered around a quaint two-story red brick. From inside the house, 2nd Mass fighters were also attacking, and caught between the forces, it didn't take long for the Skitters to be obliterated. Then Anthony and the others led the way to the building, Jimmy and his three charges trailing behind.

Inside, there was maybe four or five fighters, and Anthony found and greeted Dai in what may have once been a dining room, though the table had obviously been removed recently, most likely broken down and used for a barricade. Jimmy barely made it into the room when he was caught round the neck, crushed against a warm body in a good-natured strangle hold and his hair ruffled, overwhelmed by a somewhat familiar scent akin to Ben's citrus and pine but not quite the same.

"God damn it, kid, we need to get you a leash or something," Hal remarked, as Jimmy squirmed out of the older boy's grasp, flustered and heart pounding erratic, as his mind flew unbidden to Ben, "Where the hell were you?"

"I know, I know, everyone thought I was dead…again, but I was just forced against my will to leave camp when the attack happened," Jimmy hastily rattled off explanation, darting a pointed look at Roman, Gia, and Doug standing sheepishly in the corridor, "I'm alive and fine. What's going on? Where is everyone?"

"We don't know. All over the place. What you see here is what we've got," Hal answered, gesturing to the handful of stony faced fighters in the room, all of whom were watching interestedly as Anthony and Dai exchanged information, "We've been under near constant assault since that first strike. We fled to a church, sent the civilians out in small groups with escorts, hopefully they made it through and then whatever fighters remained tried to hold the line, but the enemy just kept pouring down on us, we were forced to fall back and all ended up separated. What do you mean forced to leave camp? Where were you forced to go?"

"Alien structure," Jimmy muttered, "Don't ask. I don't know why and they aren't talking."

"They…?" Hal repeated, furrowing his brow, then following Jimmy's gaze towards the three teenagers standing outside of the dining room. He darted a confused look to Jimmy and Jimmy shrugged response. He shifted his weight, folding his arms over his chest, anxiously questioning, "You were out there at the structure? Did you see…?"

"Ben…yeah," Jimmy mumbled interruption, dropping his eyes and whispering, "He helped us destroy the alien thing but I…I don't know where he is now. I tried looking for him but…"

"Great," Hal groaned, running a hand over his face and rubbing his features furiously, "Knowing Ben, he's probably trying to take on the entire alien fleet by himself, the little jerk."

"I'm sure he's okay," Jimmy quietly commented. Hal smirked wryly and shook his head at the ground, clapping a hand to Jimmy's shoulder once, and then stalking towards Anthony and Dai.

Jimmy sighed and meandered out into the hallway, leaning against the wall across from the three unharnessed teens. He looked at each of them considerately and they gawked silently back at him.

"Tell me about the signal."

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A/N: Right. There's that...end on a semi-cliff hanger. Yay!

Um...

Yeah, let me know what you think, please!

Reviewers: SassySavanna190, hehe, glad you liked it! Yes, Ben is still a kid at heart, and his biggest weakness is definitely Jimmy right now, which I will totally exploit to the best of my abilities. I love writing Pope, I do, because I feel like I can have him say anything snarky and it works for him. Um...honestly, I guess it's almost been a year since I last watched Falling Skies, so I don't really remember the funniest lines from the show. I actually don't recall laughing all that much while watching. Sorry I don't have a better answer. :( RemedyRay, yay, you caught up! And I'm glad you dig the sequel so much! Yes, the odd little love triangle thing going on there...addicting , huh? Aww...I'm glad you think so. Hope this update was worth the wait. Haley, I don't know if you reached this chapter yet, but welcome back! Starting to like Roman, huh? Awesome. You know, he's not really a bad guy, he just does bad things sometimes.

That's it. Got to check on my food. See you guys next Sunday!


	45. Chapter 45

A/N: Next chapter. Yay!

Thank you to the reviewers, you guys are awesome.

And a thank you to Greg for beta-ing.

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XLV.

Though Doug and Gia dropped their eyes, Roman kept his penetrating gaze locked on Jimmy. There wasn't much of the usual fire in Roman's stare; it felt somewhat lost in a way, distant and forlorn. It struck Jimmy then, the deepening despair in the three; Kelsey hadn't just left, she had abandoned them, and through that came a much more awe-inspiring realization.

_We're not like Ben, _Roman had declared it so many times, but Jimmy had never fully grasped its meaning until that very moment. It was true, they weren't like Ben, but it had nothing to do with the spikes, the harness, and the extent of their genetically altered physiology. Ben had been rescued. His father and his brother had searched for him, it was their main reason for joining the resistance, and once they'd spotted him, Professor Mason made it clear in no uncertain terms to Weaver that he intended to invade the harnessing facility and rescue Ben and that was exactly what he did. Then Dr. Glass cut the harness from Ben's back and their family was reunited. Happily ever after, or just about the closest anyone could get in the apocalypse.

But what did that make Roman, Gia, Douglas, Kelsey, and, maybe to a lesser extent, Rick? They were all last minute after thoughts, unforeseen side-effects that came along whether anyone liked it or not with the real aim of Professor Mason and Hal's search-and-rescue mission several months ago: Ben. And even though Ben was no more wanted by the 2nd Mass than the other five, at least he had family there that loved him. As for the rest, they were all just unintended consequences, no more wanted nor having a place in the resistance than a ghost that outlived its usefulness when the 2nd Mass left Dorchester.

They weren't like Ben. If anything, they were exactly like Jimmy, lost and misplaced and searching for something, anything to hold onto and call their own. So in absence of their own family coming to rescue and reunite with them, they formed a family together. What else could they do? But now a part of that makeshift family had left, shrugged them off as though shrugging off a coat in July, and all that remained was the jarring reminder that they weren't really anything to one another or anyone else that was left in the world; it was disorienting to say the least and needless to say, Jimmy was overly familiar with the feeling.

"Tell me about the signal," Jimmy repeated.

"Already told you, we're not the ones that owe you an explanation," Roman muttered.

"Actually, you are," Jimmy gently returned, and the shift in his tone caused the others to hesitate, he smirked sadly up at Roman, "You're the ones that made me a part of it, not Ben," his eyes fell to the floor and he murmured, "You're the ones that want me a part of it. So either bring me in, bring me all the way in or…"

Jimmy sighed and lifted his eyes to meet Roman's once more; blinking away the flicker of pain as he dwelled on the inference in his own words.

"Or leave me out of it and leave me alone."

Roman turned his face away, and shifted uncomfortably. Gia peeked up at Jimmy and Doug snorted softly under his breath.

"We don't know much about it," Roman began. He straightened, took a deep breath and looked once more at Jimmy, "It started several weeks back, out of nowhere. At first it was faint, then it got louder, sometimes it fades out but…but it's always there."

"No one else could hear it," Gia mentioned, "We figured that out real quick. That it was just us."

"And the other two," Douglas whispered, "They hear it too."

"What does it sound like?" Jimmy wondered, "Is there a pattern to it? Is it like Morse code or…?"

"Nothing like that," Roman said, "It's hard to explain. It's kind of like…like the sound of candy wrappers, when you squash candy wrapper in your hands."

"Cellophane," Doug provided, "Crinkling cellophane."

"But then, it's not like that at all," Gia added.

Jimmy frowned, his brow wrinkling.

"That's not very helpful," he noted, though his mind was stumbling back to several weeks ago. Several things had occurred in that time span, some of which he couldn't be entirely certain were connected, but one of which stood out very clearly in his mind, "Is this signal why you asked Weaver for training?"

The three exchanged looks then sheepishly murmured various confirmations.

"What else is there about this signal? How does it make you…do you lose time or…are there things you've done, maybe things you wouldn't normally ever do, that you don't remember doing?" Jimmy asked, sounding put out by the question out of fear of its answer.

"No…" Roman carefully replied, perking a brow, scowling and surmising, "You're trying to excuse your psycho razorback's poor behavior with this weird signal thing. Unbelievable."

Jimmy narrowed his eyes on Roman, demanding, "What do you know about it?"

"I know when someone tells me they care about me right after they nearly twisted my arm out of its socket that chances are their actions are speaking way more loudly than their words," Roman hissed and Jimmy felt a terrible pang in his chest as he recalled Roman's confession the other night, "When are you going to figure it out, brat? You can't trust him."

Jimmy faltered, slumping back against the wall and screwing his eyes tightly shut.

"Why did Kelsey leave?" he asked, forcing the topic away from Ben. It was a difficult enough subject to think about when he knew the other boy's location and status, right then his thoughts were already in too dark a place as far as Ben's whereabouts went without throwing in doubt and not-entirely-irrational fears of alien mind control.

"Kelsey could hear the signal more clearly than the rest of us," Gia confessed, "Probably because…because her 'powers', the alien stuff, it's stronger in her than the rest of us."

"Really," Jimmy murmured, asked, "Why is that?"

"Probably because she was harnessed longer," Doug commented off handedly, and Gia poked him sharply in the ribs.

"I thought you were all harnessed at the same time," Jimmy persisted, darting looks to each of them, his mind reeling back once more to every conversation he'd ever had with Kelsey, going back to the truck and the shopping trip, "Kelsey was the one that wanted to go out to that alien structure today. Is that where the signal was coming from? The structure?"

"Kelsey thought it was, but she was wrong," Gia confirmed.

"Kelsey…was she…" Jimmy paused, searched for the right words, uncertain how to properly phrase the question, so he simply blurted out, "Is she a razorback?"

"No," Roman snapped, bristling angrily, "Did you see those spikes sticking out of her? She doesn't have them; she's not one of them."

"She…" Doug began, but let it drop after a sharp look from Roman.

They fell silent when Dai entered the hallway and Jimmy straightened, the senior officer examining him.

"I need a word," Dai said after a few minutes scrutiny.

Jimmy nodded and followed the young man into an empty room. He stood at attention and tensed slightly when Dai spun and eyed him warily, arms folded over his chest.

"You left during the attack," Dai stated.

Jimmy opened his mouth to explain, to insist once more that it had been against his will, but the words died on his tongue and only a small, strangled squeak managed to escape his throat. He ducked his head, ashamed.

"I'm sorry, Dai, I know I screwed up," he said.

"And you destroyed that alien structure," Dai interjected.

Jimmy nodded.

"Right, well, if we get out of this alive, remind me to punish you for insubordination later," Dai said, and Jimmy glanced up at him, catching the teasing smirk on his lip, "Anthony tells me you think the sewers could be a viable escape route?"

"Yeah. I think we could take them out of the suburbs," Jimmy sheepishly explained, "There should be an outlet somewhere just outside of the city, probably one that washes out into a river nearby."

"Right. We'll do that then," Dai decided.

Jimmy nodded again, and then made a noise as though clearing his throat. Dai raised a brow, a gesture that prompted Jimmy to speak his mind.

"Ben," Jimmy whispered, nibbling his inner cheek, "We got separated out at the alien blob…I don't know…I think he came back this way, I don't know for sure. I need…I don't want to leave until I find him."

"I understand," Dai replied, though his expression gave no indication that he truly did, and he strode towards the door, saying shortly, "We need to move."

"Well…are we going to look for Ben?" Jimmy wondered, befuddled, and hurrying after the ever-unreadable young man, "Wait, Dai, I don't understand! Are you going to let me look for Ben or not? Dai…?"

…

After a couple blocks, Skitters intermittently attacking in tiny forces, Uncle Scott made the call to take refuge in another building, a preschool with a tall cement wall along its backside. Dr. Glass suggested that she look at Ben's injuries, some were fresh from their movements, but mostly she was interested in treating the ones he'd retained from his mission out at the alien structure. The group holed up in one of the larger classrooms, and Dr. Glass took Ben aside to the restroom, Matt tagging along, hovering at the bathroom entrance as Dr. Glass cleaned what she could of the injuries, most of which had dried up already and scabbed over.

They sat in silence at first, and then Ben glanced warily at Matt, and in a low voice asked Dr. Glass, "Where did you last see Hal?"

"The church," she answered softly, her own eyes momentarily fleeing to the youngest Mason, "He asked if we'd keep an eye on Matt. With you gone, he was reluctant to leave Matt alone but he wanted to give Matt the best chance of getting out of here."

"Best chance would've been to stay with Matt," Ben mumbled, barely noticing the pain as Dr. Glass prodded a particularly bruised and gaping laceration in his side, still oozing blood it seemed.

"You might need stitches on this one," she clucked reprovingly, fumbling in her bag for a needle and thread, alcohol to disinfect.

"Leave it," Ben decided, noticing that Matt had maneuvered round behind him and was staring at the spikes protruding from his spine. He could hear the adults in the other room arguing with Uncle Scott and Kate about whether or not they should be traveling with 'one of them', "We don't have time."

"It'll only take me a few minutes," Dr. Glass replied, finding the items she needed and prepping them, "It's going to be a long ways until I can get you properly cleaned up, and I imagine you'll be taking quite a few more beatings until then, so it's important I take care of any tiny bit of patching up that I can do right now."

Ben sighed, but relented, shifting to give the doctor better access to the injury. He could feel the needle and thread tugging his skin closed, but it was a muted feeling, almost as though he were merely dreaming about feeling it. Matt disappeared from the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind him, and Ben frowned, glaring at the tiled floor.

"He worries about you," Dr. Glass commented, "Both of you."

"How bad was it? Getting to that house where I found you guys?" Ben asked.

"We lost a lot of our group. Some of them children," Dr. Glass answered, "One that Matt was getting along with, Tim, was lost."

"Oh," Ben said, because he felt he should say something but wasn't sure what. He'd never heard mention of any 'Tim', and he wasn't sure if that was because he hadn't listened or because he hadn't been around enough to hear. He wondered distantly if Hal knew anything of Tim, but pushed that pondering swiftly away, as he could easily guess the answer: no.

"My aunt Kate, she's in bad shape, more so than she's letting on," Dr. Glass admitted, tying off the stitch, and clipping the thread with a knife from her bag, "I think there might be internal bleeding, but she won't let me check. There's not much I can do about it right now if there is."

"I'm sorry," Ben whispered, shuddering at the brush of Dr. Glass's hands as she taped gauze over the fresh stitches. There wasn't much else he could say. From what little he remembered of his days interestedly researching medicine, internal bleeding could lead to a quick and silent death if not caught and treated.

"I'm sure that he's alright," Dr. Glass said.

Ben nodded, but didn't ask who she meant. Hal seemed obvious; they'd opened discussion on Hal, and spoke about Ben's brothers in general. Or it could be Jimmy, but Ben was trying his damndest not to think about where Jimmy might or might not be at that moment, he didn't think he could continue to do what the group needed him to do if he let himself linger on it. Either that or she meant his father, or even all three, or someone more obscure like the captain. Most likely, she didn't mean any of them at all in particular; she was only saying the words to make Ben feel better, not because the sentiment carried any truth.

"I guess that's the best I can do for now," Dr. Glass announced.

Ben slipped his shirt back on and started for the door as Dr. Glass repacked the scant medical supplies she'd been able to grab and bring along with her in all the fleeing.

"Dr. Glass," Ben began, pausing in the bathroom door and recalling his conversation with Uncle Scott shortly after the first attack the night before about confessing to Dr. Glass the mysterious happenings with his alien spikes. It seemed so long ago, time moved so rapidly along those days. It was hard for Ben to believe he was only just turning fifteen in less than a month, he felt far too old for his age. He could barely remember the scrawny, skittish child he'd been at the start of the invasion. Ben had lost track of Jimmy because his blackouts, and maybe in that sense at the very least, those adults were right not to want Ben amongst them. He couldn't be trusted, couldn't be relied on.

"What is it?" Dr. Glass prompted, slinging her bag over her shoulder and looking curiously at the teenager standing across from her – too young to be a man, too old to be a boy, too alien to be any part of humanity's hero.

"Nothing…just, thank you for the patch up," Ben mumbled, swiftly exiting. Matt waited in the hallway, perking when Ben appeared, and hastily following, as they rejoined the others in the classroom.

"Everyone thinks it's a bad idea to keep moving with all of these children like this," Uncle Scott said when Ben and Dr. Glass approached. Evidently, he didn't plan on voicing the other thing everyone else thought, that Ben was not and should not be welcome as their vanguard.

"It does make us an easier target," Ben agreed.

"It's been proposed that we leave the children here with a couple adults and break into a few pairs to search out the rest of the 2nd Mass, try and bring them back here," Uncle Scott continued, "We can cover more ground that way, and go a bit more undetected. Kate isn't feeling up to moving much farther, and my old bones are giving me trouble, we volunteered to stay with the children."

"I think I should stay too," Dr. Glass suggested, and though Ben figured it was probably because she wanted to keep an eye on Kate, Dr. Glass offered up explanation, "I imagine a lot of the people found and brought back here will be injured, I should be ready to take care of them."

"Everyone has picked themselves out a traveling companion," Uncle Scott went on and Ben nodded, understanding the hidden meaning in that proclamation, that no one picked Ben, "And are discussing where to scout at…we'll keep one gun here, give one to each party and divvy up the ammo. It's been mentioned, and now you don't have to if you don't want to, but a few people noticed that you fare well with your knife against the Skitters. Not a single one of us could manage that. Would you be willing to part with your rifle? Give it up to another pair?"

"Is that really a choice?" Ben scoffed, slipping the aforementioned gun off his shoulder and passing it over.

"It's always a choice," Uncle Scott said kindly, taking the weapon and smiling, "This is appreciated by all of us, I want you to know that. Just because you can manage in melee, doesn't mean it's easy, we recognize that."

"Right," Ben muttered. Uncle Scott sighed, and patted the young boy's shoulder.

"It's up to you if you want to head out alone or pick a party to travel with," he said.

"I'll go with Ben," Matt offered.

"Alone is fine," Ben said wearily, ignoring Matt's petulant look, "I can move faster by myself. I'll leave now, head northeast, the direction I heard gunfire earlier."

"I'll let the other's know," Uncle Scott conceded, and he and Dr. Glass headed back to the group, Dr. Glass gently touching Ben's shoulder in passing.

"I can go with you," Matt complained, dogging after Ben as he strode for the door, "Ben, I want to go with you."

"Matt," Ben growled, reeling on his younger brother, seething with his frustration at not knowing where Hal was, at his well-concealed panic of not knowing where Jimmy was, his feelings of hurt and betrayal at the group's distrust and his own distrust in himself, "And what good would you be to me? You'd only get in the way. You need to stay here and shut up."

"But you promised you wouldn't leave me again," Matt whispered, his features dropping.

Ben scowled, heart hammering in his chest. He took a deep breath and lowered himself to his knee, so he was more or less eye level with Matt, and gripped the younger boy's shoulders.

"I know, and I don't want to, but I don't have a choice, Matt," Ben said.

"Whatever. Everyone always leaves me behind," Matt murmured, "Mom, dad, Hal, you…"

"Matt, now is really not the time," Ben groaned, exasperated. He couldn't believe the little pain was really pulling a 'nobody cares about me' tantrum in the middle of the goddamned battlefield.

"When is the time? It's not fair, Ben! You and Hal get to go off and fight and do actual important stuff and I have to stay with little kids and the civilians," Matt hissed, snottily remarking, "Because you have to be the big powerful fighter who does all the protecting and I have to be the weak little kid that needs to be protected. No wonder Jimmy gets so mad at you. You're such a jerk."

Ben flinched, dually taken aback by the sudden mention of his MIA lover and the force of Matt's words.

"You're unbelievable, you know that? You don't want to be treated like a kid, Matt, well then grow up," Ben snapped, "In case you haven't noticed more important things are going on right now, I cannot spend my time out there worrying about where you are, when I'm already worried enough as it is about Hal and Jimmy."

Matt tugged himself free of Ben's grasp and darkened a glower on the older boy, "Because _he's_ more important."

"That is not what I said," Ben seethed, rolling his eyes, agitation prickling at the hairs on the back of his neck, "Why do you have to act like this right now?"

Where the hell was Jimmy? Why hadn't he waited or at least gone looking for Ben? Had something happened to him? Or was he starting to think like the rest of the 2nd Mass again, realizing there might be truth in their catty whispers; that Ben couldn't be relied on?

"Fine. Go. I don't need you," Matt spat out, stumbling several steps backwards, he dropped his voice low and accused, "Everyone's probably right, you probably are working with the Skitters. My real older brother wouldn't break his promise."

"Or maybe your real older brother is just sick of your crap," Ben muttered tersely, shaking his head as though to shake away the stir of emotion in him from Matt's snide comment and, standing once more, whispered, "I'm sorry, Matt."

Matt shook his head and kicked absently at the ground, "Whatever."

Ben sighed, considering the younger boy a moment. Maybe Matt had every right to be angry, and maybe Ben had every reason to take Matt with him and forget the rest of the group, after all, they made it perfectly clear they didn't want him or his help. But like it or not, Ben and his brothers and, what's more, Jimmy needed the 2nd Mass, so there Ben stood, rock and hard place, yet again. He gently brushed a hand across Matt's head, mussing the hair a bit, which Matt half-heartedly responded indignantly towards, then Ben spun round on heel and hastened from the preschool, not once looking back.

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AN: I don't really like these next several chapters so I kind of hope you people enjoy them.

Otherwise, I need to go to bed.

Thanks for reading, please review and whatnot.

Reviewers: Guest, um...happy birthday? Belated, I suppose. IcicleLilly, yeah, another separation. Shit happens. Sorry, tired. Hm...I know a few sensual scenes are **eventually** coming up, within the next ten chapters or so...ish, less, maybe. We'll see. SassySavanna190, the show does take long breaks, doesn't it? I'll be surprised if they retain much of an audience if they keep that up, short seasons and really long breaks tend to kill shows. Yes, Hal, Matt, and Dr. G are good. Dai is also doing well, are you not glad of that? They aren't just being snarky, they do have a bit of rationale, even though we'd all be devastated if it turned out to be true (no one more so than Jimmy, of course). Yeah, stupid Hal, getting Jimmy thinking about Ben. You'll see how everyone is doing later. Eventually. Not long. Less then five chapters. I think. No. Yes. I can't remember.

I need to sleep. See you guys...Sunday? Yeah, sure, we'll go with Sunday.


	46. Chapter 46

A/N: I have to write a fifteen page paper today but schools almost over, then I will have the summer to work on this story, and a few other projects that have been collecting dust on my shelf. Including that dark future fic I teased several chapters back that I've been daydreaming about a lot today...

Thank you for the reviews you guys, you rock.

And a thank you to Greg for beta-ing. He surprisingly liked this chapter. Hopefully you guys feel the same...we'll see.

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XVI.

There wasn't much left of the area where Ben had earlier heard gunfire when he finally arrived. He looked the place over, charred remains of suburbia littered every which direction. Dead aliens were strewn across the lawns of a few scorched homes, and when Ben approached the building, he faltered on a porch step, able to easily see charred and butchered remains of 2nd Mass fighters and civilians alike lying inside. Ben choked back his emotion, and carefully stepped away from the buildings once more. He could hear a Skitter behind him, slowly advancing, and he unsheathed a knife. It lunged for him and he spun to attack, but the crack of gunfire popped the alien's head clean off, and its limp body slumped to the ground.

Ben smeared away the ichor that had splattered across his face best he could and tilted his head to get a better view of his savior. Maggie stood down the street at the corner, a shotgun still poised in the crook of her shoulder, grim solemnity etched in her tightly drawn features. She dropped the barrel downwards and stalked towards Ben.

"Jimmy's alive," Ben blurted out the moment she was near enough he could deliver the news in a clandestine whisper. She paused and her expression softened slightly, a brief relief passing across her eyes, and Ben clarified distantly, "At least…last I saw him, he was okay. I don't know where he is now. But he wasn't lost, not in the community center anyway…he was out at the structure…with me and…"

"How are you?" Maggie interrupted, her eyes darting pointedly to the obvious injuries Ben sported. Absently, he traced his fingers over a bit of the bandaging Dr. Glass recently wrapped him up with; they were already crinkled and dirtied.

"I'm fine," Ben replied. He could hear a couple other fighters nearby, most likely a part of Maggie's unit, but asked, "Do you know where others are?"

"Not a clue. I've a lead on Weaver's location, but everyone is scattered all over the place and the enemy is overflowing every street. No one is staying anywhere long, best to keep moving to stay alive, but I'm not sure how long that'll last. Skitters have us locked in on all sides; we've got maybe a five, six block radius. We're fish, and this is a barrel," Maggie answered, then dropped her eyes and admitted, "I don't know where your brothers are."

"Matt is in a preschool with Uncle Scott and Dr. Glass and a whole bunch of kids about four blocks south of here," Ben said, "We had a few older civilians with us that broke into groups to search out others and point them back that direction. You and your friends should head there now."

"I don't know, Ben, I'd love to go protect the small children, really, but I also would – and I know the others too – would feel a lot better if we found Weaver and got his orders first," Maggie returned, anxiously toying with the trigger of her shotgun, gaze scouring the dark end of the street.

"Great. Right. Yeah," Ben murmured, scowling, as he made another attempt to listen for survivors, "Where did you think Weaver was at?"

"Last I'd heard, more east of here, but like I said, he might've moved already," Maggie said.

Ben focused on the noises coming from the east, furrowing his brow and trying to muddle through the carnage. He shook his head after several seconds.

"I can't get anything that direction…there's just too much going on," Ben grumbled, frowning and rubbing a hand over his face. It was getting increasingly harder on him to listen, he couldn't help hoping that he would hear Jimmy's voice, or some indication that the other boy left the downtown district and the mess they made of that alien structure and returned to the community center, and it crushed him every time when there was nothing.

"Listen, we'll go that direction and see if Weaver is over there, if not, we'll head to the preschool," Maggie decided, "Sound like a plan?"

"Yeah, that's fine," Ben returned, "But if you don't mind, I'm going to go the other way and keep looking for other survivors to point back towards the preschool."

"Alright, well, then we'll see you there. Good luck," Maggie said, smiling thinly and pushing on.

"Be careful," Ben replied, gave her a short nod and hurried off onto the next street and towards the nearest gunfire to which he could make out a clear direction. He slunk round the corner and cut between two houses, stumbling into the backyard and suddenly white cut across his vision.

Seated comfortably on the mid-step of the staircase, Ben could easily see Hal and his girlfriend on the living room couch locked in an intimate embrace, their mouths gnashing against one another. They sounded somewhat like livestock grazing, and they panted noisily. Every so often she would break away and giggle, and Hal would murmur something inaudible and she would laugh, and their mouths would mash together once more. Ben furrowed his brow, leaned forward on his knees and gripped his head in his hands. His ears were ringing, his mouth felt dry, like he was munching on cotton, and his tongue tasted metallic. He felt as though there was screaming nearby. He couldn't hear it; he could just feel it reverberating in his chest.

"This…isn't right," he whispered, his hands trembling. He barely heard his brother's approach, startling at the knock across his shoulder, leaning back to look the older boy in the face.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Hal demanded.

"I don't…" Ben stammered, trying to focus on his surroundings. He was at home. The television was running downstairs, evidenced by the laugh track as some sitcom. It was a Saturday night. Their mom and dad were out, dinner with the Thorsens. Matt had stayed over at a friend's house, some slumber party, birthday or something.

"Hey, dork, I asked you a question," Hal growled, slapping Ben lightly upside the head.

"Nothing," Ben snapped, absently rubbing the spot and glaring up at his brother, "I wasn't doing anything. I'm just sitting here…"

"Sitting here spying on me and Katy?" Hal surmised, folding his arms over his chest, narrowing his eyes.

"No, I was just…"

"Save it, you little pervert," Hal muttered, "It's bad enough that I have to put up with your being here to begin with…"

"I live here," Ben pointed out.

"It's Saturday night, Ben. What? You couldn't get a date, so you have to crash mine?" Hal growled.

"I _live_ here," Ben repeated, sharply, "Why do you have to bring your date home? You couldn't just take her to the movies or something like everyone else? Instead I have to put up with you slobbering all over some girl on the couch. I sit there, you know, our sweet, innocent little brother watched cartoons on that couch this morning."

"Oh grow up, Ben," Hal groaned, yanking Ben to his feet and shoving him towards upstairs, "We were just kissing. And Matt is anything but sweet and innocent. He knows more about third base than you do, which I guess isn't really saying much. Now, don't you have some D&D something that can keep you occupied for the next three or four hours…"

"Three or _four_ hours? That's not fair! A few of my shows are on tonight," Ben protested.

"What? Dweebs in Space?" Hal scoffed, "Seriously, television and video games is all you've got on a Saturday night? You need a life."

"You need a car," Ben muttered, and Hal flicked the back of his neck, giving him another hard shove upwards. He trudged up the stairs, grumbling under his breath as he heard Hal heading back into the living room, and then slipped into his bedroom and leaned back against the door, glaring at the slightly mussed room and frowning petulantly.

Another Saturday night of television and video games, yeah, maybe this was his life and maybe it made him happy. At least in the games he could be the hero of his own world.

Ben started towards his computer and winced, a searing pain ripping through his entire body. He cried out and nearly crumpled to the ground, placing his weight against the nearby wall for support, frowning as tiny dots of red splattered to the floor. There was the feeling again, of screaming, a thundering pulse pounding erratic rhythm in his veins, up through his feet, racing his limbs, and exploding into his head. He brought a hand up to touch his forehead and startled at the sound of his bedroom door opening. He turned round and took a few steps back; wincing against the waft of party sounds downstairs tumbling through his open door, and forced his focus on the figure standing in his doorframe.

"Cole?" Ben acknowledged, scowling and rubbing a hand over his face.

"Oh, Ben, sorry," the older boy said in return, gently closing the door and cutting off the thrall of repetitively thrumming dance music and giddy high-schoolers, "I didn't know you were in here. I was looking for a quiet place to clear my head. It's a mess downstairs."

Cole's cheeks were flush, his eyes slightly glazed, his words faintly slurred.

"Yeah…I don't know…" Ben murmured returned, shaking his head, whispering, "What Saturday is this?"

"Do you mind if I hang out in here for a bit?" Cole asked, stumbling further into the room and collapsing onto Ben's bed.

"No, it's okay," Ben said unnecessarily, it was obvious the older boy didn't care about having permission. He wandered over and took a seat next to Cole, as the details of the night became less fuzzy in his mind. Mom and dad were out of town for the week, they took Matt with them, and Hal decided to throw a party because it wasn't like Ben could throw one, "unless twenty-sided die were involved" – Hal's words. As the minutes ticked into one another, Ben began to wonder how he could ever have questioned the night. Why did he feel so out of place?

Cole slumped across the mattress, attempting to hold himself propped up but very clearly incapable. He stared up at Ben, a strangely muted expression on his face, and Ben shifted uncomfortably, his heart hammering away in his chest. For whatever reason, he had a hard time being alone with Cole ever since three years back, Cole had stayed the night and Ben walked in on the older boy in the middle of changing. Rationally, Ben knew seeing the other boy nearly naked shouldn't have made things awkward, Ben saw other boys undress every day at school in the boys' locker room, but somehow Cole was different. Maybe it was his smell, the way he moved, the way he talked, the way he looked at Ben as though he actually saw a person standing there and not just Hal's dorky little brother. Cole always made an effort to talk to Ben, greet him on arriving, ask him about his day, treat him kindly, acknowledge him, and this moment was no different than those.

Cole just came upstairs to say 'hi', nothing out of the ordinary, so why was Ben's heart racing and why did his head feel so light and warm?

"You playing your video games up here," Cole noticed, his eyes half-lidded casually strolled over Ben's computer screen, Ben's avatar standing securely in the middle of a busy town, other players chat scrolling colorfully up in a box on the bottom of the game.

"Yeah," Ben murmured, cheeks reddening in embarrassment. He started to rise, intending to turn the monitor off at least, but Cole suddenly reached out, gripped his forearm and tugged him back down to the bed.

"It's sort of funny, isn't it? How different you and Hal are."

"I guess," Ben folded his arms in his lap, shifting awkwardly. Funny wasn't a word Ben would usually attribute to his and Hal's differences. Despite their mother's assurance that they were each special in their own ways, there was really nothing funny about it.

"Sorry," Cole laughed, now resting his hand on Ben's shoulder, and smiling up, his eyes shimmering strangely, "I've been drinking."

"I can tell," Ben admitted, shrugging, "It's okay. Don't you want to get back to the party? It seems more fun than being in here."

"I like it in here," Cole confessed, sitting up best he could, given his inebriated state, "I like being with you."

"Oh," Ben mouthed, flustering and trying to focus on anything that wasn't Cole at that moment, "I like you too. Or…being with you…talking. It's nice."

"I'm glad," Cole said.

A hush fell between them, in which Ben could swear his thundering heart overwhelmed the silent void.

"It's better, that you're different than him," Cole noted, looking at Ben through glassy eyes, blurrily murmuring, "It makes you special. You're a very special person. Very special…"

Cole leaned in closer and Ben stiffened, warmth spreading through him, as he watched the older boy's inexplicable movements in stun. Before Cole was close enough, a jarring pain shuddered through Ben and he faltered back, his vision flashing a brilliant white.

"Ben?" Cole questioned, and Ben attempted to get a grip on the world again.

In the open doorway stood a figure, strange and yet familiar, a flash of blue, and then he was gone into the hallway, Ben instinctively stumbling to his feet to follow after.

"Ben…Ben wait," Cole called after, urgency rushing through Ben, if he didn't catch that boy right in that moment, in that night, he felt certain that he never would. He nearly stumbled in his sprint down the stairs and into the flurry of bodies, melding together as one, bobbing and swaying to the pulsations of horrendously loud music that thumped in his chest, little more discernible from an endlessly redundant beat. Again, that glimpse of blue, and Ben pushed his way through the crowd, his head searing in pain, his desperate yet confusing need to grab hold of that boy and shake answers from him to questions Ben didn't know, the only thing pushing him forward. He fell out of the crowd and into the backyard.

"Ben?" a grizzled voice questioned, a firm grip on Ben's shoulder. He blinked a few times, retuned his attentions to the current surroundings, some unknown backyard, the sound of battles distant and near raging all around him.

"Captain Weaver?" Ben returned, the old man smirked wryly.

"Let me guess, you're standing here staring blankly at the heavens like a worm on a hook because you've some foolhardy notion you'll bait the enemy to yourself and draw them off us," Weaver joked.

"No, sir," Ben murmured, flustering embarrassed, and taking in the tattered group around them, several civilians and bedraggled fighters, all hoisting rifles or various other weaponry most of them were hardly trained to use, "Let me guess, you're gathering our severely splintered group and hoping to make a break for it?"

"More like hoping to make a final stand," Weaver amended his expression grim.

"I never took you as the type to throw in the towel so easy, sir," Ben remarked.

"You call this easy," Weaver barked short laugh, smiling glumly, and distantly commenting with only a hint of sorrow, "And I always pegged Jimmy as the crazy one."

"Oh, no, sir, he's _definitely_ the crazy one," Ben returned, smirking, and readily informing Weaver, "I should tell you now, sir, he didn't die in the community center during the attack. He was out at the alien structure with me, figured out how to blow the thing up, and assembled a bomb with supplies from a hardware store."

"Well, I'll be damned," Weaver whispered, suddenly appearing as though a great burden had been lifted from his shoulders.

"Crazy, right?" Ben prompted, and Weaver grinned.

"Okay. You win. He is the crazy one. Where is he now?"

Ben's features fell slightly, quietly answering, "I don't know. We got separated after we destroyed the alien structure."

"Okay," Weaver whispered, carefully changing the subject, "How long ago did that thing go down?"

"Few hours."

"Explains the shift in enemy troops," Weaver decided, sniffling loudly and glaring at the night sky, eyes narrowed into tiny slits, "We should probably get moving from this area soon, find cover, figure out what we're doing from there."

"There's a daycare center south of here, Uncle Scott, Dr. Glass, and a whole lot of children are all holed up there," Ben mentioned, "There were a bunch of civilians but we split into pairs to search out others of the 2nd Mass and point them that direction."

"Trying to gather everyone in one place, good thinking," Weaver said, starting to head the direction of the daycare center and motioning the others to fall in line.

"Not my thinking, but I agree, it seemed smart, sir," Ben corrected then frowned, stepping in line beside Weaver as the others naturally fell into formation around them, "Earlier I ran into a group of fighters being led around by Maggie, rather than go to the daycare center, they wanted to keep searching for you, sir."

"You trying to ask me something or just stating fact?" Weaver wondered, peering appraisingly at Ben.

"Should I go after them, let them know I found you?" Ben persisted.

"No…no, son, at least, I think not just this moment. Right now I need you to tell me what you can of the battlefield," Weaver determined.

Ben nodded, faltering in his step to focus his attention on the world at large. He parsed out the various sounds of gunfire and cries of battle, localized them in the neighborhood, then frowned and cursed, snapping back into himself. Weaver had paused at Ben's profane outburst to stare inquisitively back at him.

"Mechs. Daycare center," Ben spat out explanation before breaking into a sprint towards the building, not even bothering to see if the others were following. A thousand and one thoughts played through his mind, constantly rewinding back to Matt staring up at him with pleading eyes, begging Ben not to go away, not to leave him there, to let them just that once stay together.

…

Suburban sewers were different than urban, slimier and more stagnant. Finding an entrance wasn't too hard, but convincing everyone in the group to slink into the smelly depths took some serious persuading. Jimmy shined a flashlight every which direction attempting to get his bearings straight, Dai and Anthony and Hal hovering beside him impatiently, the others evidently restless and disgusted and more importantly, doubtful.

"I can't believe you spent two months in a place like this," Hal commented, wrinkling his nose at Jimmy, "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I'm alive, aren't I? More than can be said of anyone else that was in Dorchester," Jimmy returned sharply, then muttering, "And, you know, Ben didn't whine once about it. How is it that you're the more immature one?"

"I'll show you immature, you little punk," Hal threatened, his tone light-hearted.

"I'd like to see you try," Jimmy scoffed.

"Hey, I got two little brothers, and a lot of practice wrestling them both at once, taking you would be a piece of cake," Hal replied.

"Oh please, I've wrestled your little brothers, too, and you're talking pre-harness Ben, post-harness I've pinned Ben more than once," Jimmy jeered, smirking.

"Yeah, that's only because he _lets_ you pin him," Hal grumbled, commenting under his breath, "And some of us really don't need to know the finer details of your love life."

"That…well…I…" Jimmy flustered, stammering, "Fuck you, asshole."

"Now children," Anthony jokingly chastised, as Dai shook his head at them.

"Jimmy, in Dorchester, how did you find fighters from inside of the sewers?" Dai wondered, forcing the focus back to the matter at hand.

"Yeah, it's too dark and muffled down here, difficult to get any kind of status on the surface," Anthony put in, studying the corridors, hand over his nose and mouth.

"Luck, mostly," Jimmy answered, shrugging, and pushing his way to the front of the group, gesturing the others to follow. He shined his light upwards as they passed under a beam of moonlight streaming across the slick, grimy pathway, "Grates and drains are pretty frequently placed, you can climb up and usually get a good view of the street, but you can also use them to listen to sounds above. I'd hear gunfire and, sometimes if I could, head toward it and then watch out the grates…"

Jimmy trailed off; frowning as a few memories he'd hoped to forget long ago tumbled fresh into his mind.

"Sometimes there wasn't anything I could do to help," he silently confessed, quickly adding, "But if there was, I tried."

"It's in the past. Let's focus on now," Dai recommended.

"We should probably pick a destination and head towards it," Anthony suggested, "Wandering around through this muck in hopes of finding people topside seems like a poor use of our time."

"Community center," Dai decided, and received more than a few confused looks, elucidating, "We had to abandon our vehicles during the first assault, we should collect whichever ones we can."

"Grab the artillery truck, medic van, a few bikes at least," Anthony agreed, "Solid plan, but what do we do from there? We can't take them. Moving those vehicles we'll draw too much attention to ourselves. We'll never make it more than a few streets without bringing an army of Skitters crashing down on us."

"Some of us could take bikes, let the noise draw the remaining enemy, while the rest search out our people," Hal spoke up.

"Maybe we could signal the others somehow," Jimmy quietly commented.

"Maybe," Dai mused, "For now, let's just get to the community center."

The others agreed and Jimmy tugged out Weaver's compass, getting his bearings, and then leading the way through the dank corridor.

* * *

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.

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A/N: Right, so if you've read Falling Snow, you'll recall Cole had a major role in Ben's life in that story that will give a bit of clarity to that vision/flashback/alien-dream-message thing. Bear in mind, and I think I've said this enough times, they aren't flashbacks.

Right, we find out Maggie and Weaver are good. And also, daycare center is under attack. That didn't take long, right? These next scenes are going to breeze by, mainly because I needed to get them written and was feeling lazy. Does anyone care? Didn't think so.

Let me know what you guys thought, please. I feel like I'm writing this story for two...maybe three people right now. Which is better than none, and I'd keep writing for one, but seriously, feedback feeds the muse beast.

Reviewers: SassySavanna190, yeah, I heard about Dai's death in the show. Just another reason I can't go back to watching it. Oh well. LOL, slow motion run...ah...something tells me Jimmy would not be into that kind of gushy romantic thing. Right, yes, war. Just because Jimmy and Ben are falling madly, deeply in love, doesn't mean the aliens are going home. Never say good-bye, that seems a good rule. And see, when people tell me "see you later", I always reply "Probably...possibly...maybe...we'll see". Pisses some people off, I don't know why. Cookie97, as a matter of fact, I did miss you. No kidding, hectic, I'm sorry to hear about your uncle! But I'm glad you're back.

I'll see you guys next Sunday...if I survive the week...term papers due, Japanese oral exam on Wednesday...ugh!


	47. Chapter 47

AN: Less than a week left and I'm done with school...so excited. Here's your next chapter people.

Thank you to the reviewers, you guys rock and I feel ready to finish writing this story!

And a thank you to Greg for being the guinea...er...beta. :)

* * *

XLVII.

It seemed the enemy had set up a perimeter around the Community Center. Getting to it was easy, the sewers had a connection to the center basement, and the group easily slipped inside, but they became quickly aware of the Skitters and Mech patrolling outside. Evidently, the enemy knew how important the abandoned vehicles were to their adversary.

"Now what?" Pope grunted, eying Dai warily.

Dai returned the look, "Now you and your friends provide a distraction."

Pope glanced at Crazy Lee, Lyle, Tector, Boon, none of them seemed too put out by Dai's instruction, though slightly hesitant.

"How do you propose we do that?" Lyle wondered.

"Aren't you guys berserkers, now?" Anthony jeered; gesturing towards the front entry of the center, though the reference was a bit lost on Jimmy, the group it was directed at seemed to get it, "Go out there and berserk, guns blazing."

"And what about you, mister officer," Pope challenged, crossing his arms over his chest and leering at the other man intently, "Coming after us earlier, hauling us around like mutts on a chain…doesn't that make you our handler or, at the very least, one of us?"

For a moment, Anthony looked abashed, and then said, "Are you asking me to babysit you in battle, Pope?"

"Anthony, Pope, when I give the signal, open fire from the roof," Dai commanded, clearly deciding it time to bypass the other men's antics, "As soon as there's an opening, Hal, choose three fighters and head for the bikes, drive north as far as you can then head east, most of our people went south west. The rest of you, pair off and choose vehicles, just get to them, do not start them. Jimmy, you're with me."

Orders doled out, Dai spun round and headed towards the classrooms, Jimmy hurrying after him.

"Hey, wait, what's the signal?" Pope called after, infuriated, though Anthony just insisted they head to the roof.

"Dai's a 'you'll know it when you see it' kind of signaler," he explained.

"What are we doing?" Jimmy asked; as he and Dai rounded a corner and Dai threw open the door to one of the storerooms.

"We need something to take down those Mechs," Dai explained, "How do you feel about making some napalm?"

"Is there a right answer to that question?" Jimmy wondered and Dai smirked down at him.

"Grab those bottles over there," Dai said, pointing and himself heading for a different supply shelf. Jimmy crossed the room towards the indicated items.

"You know how to make napalm from…" Jimmy examined the bottles he was collecting, "Soap and…Styrofoam cups?"

"Yes."

Jimmy wrinkled his brow at Dai, returning with the requested items, "Can I ask…before the aliens…?"

"I was in school," Dai said, leading the way back out of the store room and towards one of the classes.

"Oh, school, okay," Jimmy murmured.

Dai threw open the classroom door, it looked as though it had been an arts and crafts room, and tossed the items he'd gathered onto one of the tables inside. Jimmy followed suit, then watched as Dai rummaged through the cabinets, retrieving large paint jugs. Dai began emptying the jugs at one of the classroom's sinks.

"Um…what did you study in school?" Jimmy meekly questioned.

Dai smiled wryly at Jimmy, returning to the table with the empty plastic jugs, "Political science. I thought I might be a journalist."

"Oh," Jimmy made a face, "I guess that makes sense. You're a bit like Clark Kent, minus the flying…"

"Pay attention," Dai said, then began demonstrating assembling the incendiaries and instructing Jimmy to follow along. They put together three.

"You really think this'll take down those Mechs?" Jimmy asked.

"Theoretically, this should ignite a fire hot enough to melt metal," Dai said.

"What kind of metal?" Jimmy questioned, suddenly suspicious, and Dai didn't answer, "You don't know if this is going to work."

"I don't."

"Great. I suppose I've been in worse situations with fewer chances."

"And only just this morning. You know, that should be the 2nd Mass's motto."

"Yeah, right. We can make patches, sew them onto our sleeves," Jimmy grinned, "Right underneath we'll put, 'the cosmos's bitch'."

Dai laughed shortly.

"We'll ignite one of these bombs; hold on to the last two if we can. Once we're done here, you and I are taking to the sewers again, we'll leave Pope's 'berserkers' to fend off the enemy here," he decided, leading the way up towards the roof.

"At some point, we'll look for Ben…right?" Jimmy tentatively questioned.

"We're looking for everyone, Jimmy, and if we're lucky, Ben will be the first person we find," Dai returned.

Anthony, Pope and the rest were already in position and Dai gestured a 'go ahead' with his hand. They opened fire.

…

By the time Ben arrived, it seemed other fighters had made it back to the daycare center, probably pointed there by other pairs of civilians, but they were pinned outside confronting the enemy. Ben approached the fighters, aiming to gather information. Weaver and his group came upon the scene moments later, instantly falling into formation and joining the fray.

"The people inside?" Ben began question of the first fighter he came up to, somewhat relieved to find it was a familiar face, Mary. She shrugged response, and leaned back behind a crumbling cement wall for cover. Her features were pale, streaked with dust and sweat, her expression grim. She looked as though she'd been crying earlier.

"Maggie sent us this way," she said, although she was shouting, her voice was soft and muted by the sounds of gunfire all around them, "But when we got here, it was under attack. There are little ones inside, right?"

"Yeah, and so is Dr. Glass and her family," Ben answered, then quietly answered, "And my kid brother."

"Um…have you heard about…about Jimmy?" Mary started, her words breaking slightly.

"Yes," Ben snapped, feeling suddenly heated that the girl should even have any concerns about the well-being and whereabouts of _his_ lover, then winced, silently reminding himself that his anger was unnecessary because Jimmy _was_ hislover and nothing she did would or could change that, at least, he was fairly certain of it, and he gently informed her, "I have to get back to Weaver."

Weaver perked when Ben approached, the two falling back to cover to converse.

"I can get inside, sir," Ben said, "Maybe help defend them on that end."

"Give them a bit of a buffer until we can reach them. Good thinking," Weaver agreed, "Go ahead, we'll cover you."

Ben unsheathed his knife, and waited anxiously for a proper opening, then sprinted towards the daycare. He exchanged blows with a few Skitters along the way, dodged the advance of a Mech, and burst inside the building, never once stopping for a breath. He could hear more Skitters throughout the rooms, most of the children were pinned down in a back area, an auditorium if Ben remembered correctly and, from the sounds of it, Uncle Scott was with them. A smaller group of children were attempting to slip out the backyard, led by Dr. Glass.

Choosing a direction wasn't hard; Uncle Scott's group was in the most immediate danger. Ben raced down the hall and hit a Skitter roadblock. He could see the door to the room where the children were stashed, Uncle Scott stood his ground in front of it with a rifle wielding it like a club and not firing off any rounds, which meant he was likely out of bullets. Ben took down the first Skitter easy, but found himself wrestling with two at once. Out of the corner of an eye, he could see Uncle Scott being thrashed around.

…

The napalm didn't destroy the Mechs, but it did a good job of slowing them down, Dai suggested it was due to the fire most likely melting softer metals in their joints. They ended up using two and left the last one with Anthony, he and the berserkers remaining on the roof to draw enemy attention. Dai and Jimmy slipped into the sewers again and headed eastward.

"Weaver thought he might pull the enemy units this direction, give the civilians a clearer escape route," Dai explained, "Most of the fighters might be more concentrated that way."

Together they raced through the disgusting mulch festered tunnels, Jimmy leading the way, pausing every so often to listen at grate openings. Eventually the sound of a nearby battle caught his ear, and he hurried towards the closest manhole. Dai went up the ladder first and Jimmy quickly followed. On the street, Dai took the lead, both shouldering their rifles.

Not too far down the road, they found a small cluster of fighters taking cover behind a busted up Buick and firing on a group of Skitters. A limp body lay across the open street. Dai and Jimmy helped finish off the enemy then went to greet their fellows. A couple of the fighters went to turn over their dead friend, closed his gaping eyes and whispered a few words of parting.

Maggie was amongst the group, and immediately crushed Jimmy in an embrace. For a few seconds, he reveled in the feel, her familiar warmth, ready to collapse like a small child in his mother's arm, and then remembered that he was meant to be a battle-hardened fighter, and that there were onlookers, squirmed out of her grasp and indignantly straightened himself.

"For Christ's sake, Maggie, I'm fine," he grumbled, "Why do you always have to treat me like a kid…?"

"Where is everyone?" Maggie questioned Dai, completely disregarding Jimmy's petulant protest, absently smoothing his hair from his face.

"Not yet," Dai commanded, ignoring the questions, and heading back towards the sewer entrance, receiving more than a few puzzled looks as they were all ushered to descend into the dank corridor.

It wasn't until they were all safely underground that Dai began explanations, as Jimmy took lead again.

"We're trying to establish whereabouts now," Dai said, "We've retaken the community center. Sort of. Anthony is there with Pope and his people holding the ground. We've got people inside key vehicles ready to move and three fighters on bikes roving the area."

"Any word on Weaver?" someone asked.

"No," Dai answered easily, "We're searching out other survivors…"

"Then there's a daycare center near here that we should head towards," Maggie interjected, "Ben told me they're working on gathering people there."

"Ben," Jimmy perked, anxiously rattling off question, "You've seen him? Where was he? How was he? Where did he go? How long ago did he leave? Can we still go after him?"

Maggie and a couple others laughed, awash with a nervous kind of energy from the endless battling. Jimmy flustered at their response, realizing how he must sound and falling silent, though a relief immeasurable spread through him and he bubbled with a sudden burst of energy.

"He was fine. We ran into him on the street not too long ago, but knowing how fast he can move, he's probably long gone by now. He was searching for other fighters, pointing them to the daycare," Maggie explained, "Dr. Glass is there, and a lot of children."

"Right. We'll head to the daycare then," Dai decided.

"What about Ben?" Jimmy protested and then again flustered, wincing as blood flooded his cheeks, and all eyes turned on him. Yes, okay, fine, he was worried about the guy he made out with in storage closets. They would be too if they were in his situation, he was sure of it.

"We know that Ben is in the area," Dai said quietly, "That'll have to be enough for now."

"I know. Sorry," Jimmy murmured, sheepishly asking, "Which way to the daycare?"

…

The moment Ben saw Uncle Scott go down; he knew he had milliseconds to reach the children before it would be too late. A Skitter claw pinned him to the wall, and the dying older man's wheezing gasps for air screamed through him. He thrust his blade through the Skitter's soft palate, and slashed across the vulnerable eyes of another, causing it to writhe screeching and blind, slamming head first into the wall. Ben managed to reach Uncle Scott and knelt down to brush fingertips across his hand, gain his attention.

"Kate…" Uncle Scott gasped, crinkling his eyes and brow and murmuring disoriented, "My Kate…won't woke up…"

The old man was terrible to look at, his body battered and broken in ways Ben could never imagine repairable. Uncle Scott made attempt to sit up, but slumped against the wall. Briefly, Ben wondered if he could move Uncle Scott into the backroom, maybe barricade him in with the children and stand guard on the door until Weaver could push through, but Ben knew that moving Uncle Scott would be pointless, he'd die before ever reaching the door.

"The cavalry is just outside," Ben whispered; he could taste bitter metal on his lip, and was drenched in blood both alien and human, "Hold on."

"Forget me…get to the kids," Uncle Scott slurred, gesturing his hand randomly towards the backroom and attempting to refocus on the situation.

"I'm not leaving you here alone," Ben returned, he rose slightly and prepared for an oncoming Skitter, "I'll get you out of here."

The Skitter lunged and Ben used the wall to leverage himself, drive his blade up through the creature's underside. He pushed it back with the keel of his foot and finished it off with a quick jab through the throat, squatting down next to Uncle Scott again.

"You can't save me," Uncle Scott insisted, struggling to sit himself up, red slick across the wall and pooling beneath him. One side of his face was gashed open, and colored a sickly purple, eye sealed shut with blood and pus, his other eye narrowly slit due to over swelling, "Get me on my feet, I'll hold the rest off, give you a chance to get to the kids…"

"No," Ben argued; his father, Jimmy, his brothers, why did everyone always end up paying for his mistakes? Just this once, couldn't he be the one to make the sacrifice and save instead of be saved? _You're not the hero of this story…_

Skitters were scratching at the backroom door, they would burst through at any moment if Ben didn't make a move soon. He tightened his grip on the blade in his hand, and growled low in the back of his throat. He could hear the children inside, murmuring afraid to one another. He could hear Matt inside, whispering comfort to the other children, determination in his young voice, "If they make it through, we have to fight…"

"Okay," Ben relented. He sighed, and hurried to help drag Uncle Scott off the ground, leaving the older man only momentarily rested against the wall to wrestle another Skitter back. He shoved one of his knives into Uncle Scott's hand.

"When the time comes, Ben," Uncle Scott said, gripping Ben's arm for a second, meeting his eyes with an intent glare, and everything suddenly felt strange, distantly removed from the situation around them, "You know what the right choice is. You know where you belong. Stop fighting it."

"What?" Ben faltered, furrowing his brow, heart thumping erratic in his chest, and then he slammed head first back into the moment, as though Uncle Scott had never said anything out of the ordinary.

"Start fighting, Ben, you need to go," Uncle Ben hissed, words gurgled slightly, as he gently shoved Ben back towards battle, then spun to face his own assured death.

There were few Skitters between Ben and the door, and because they were bottlenecked by the corridor, he was able to finish them off with a relative ease. He turned round with enough time to watch in horror as Uncle Scott was engulfed by an onslaught of enemy, then positioned himself in front of the door and prepared for the horde, only to be brought nearly to his knees by an explosive rattle that rocked the earth and shattered the front lobby windows.

It took a few seconds for the enemy to recover, but once they had, they split in two directions, several rushing down the hall towards Ben, and the rest hurrying to meet the advancing 2nd Mass troops. Against guns, the Skitters went down easy, and Ben pounded the door, called to his brother inside to start moving the barricade, nodding to an approaching Weaver, and watching distantly as Dr. Glass hurried to her fallen uncle's body with her medic bag, and nearly folding inside herself at the realization he was beyond her help.

"I tried," Ben croaked out an attempted explanation, but the words were barely audible, and he could feel the eyes of the surrounding others on him, as though branding him with harsh accusation. How was it that he still stood, still breathed air, when a good man had fallen? How many other humans were going to die in his wake?

"We have to move quickly," the captain immediately barked orders, gesturing at several fighters, "Clear the building. Scout our path to the rendezvous point, and I need a position on those bikes."

"Where will we go?" Ben questioned, shakily, not certain if he'd been heard and vaguely aware that Maggie, Dai, and a mess of other fighters had, at some time during the battle, joined their ranks. The door behind him cracked open and Matt's pale face peeked out, took in the 2nd Mass outside, and thrust open the door, hurrying to his brother's side, while other children poured out around them towards the perceived safety of the elder fighters.

"How long for Jimmy to make it back this way?" Weaver demanded of Dai, and at the name, Ben stumbled back into full awareness so hard that the air knocked clear from his lungs.

"Two, three minutes maybe," Dai replied, "But he said he moves faster alone. We should leave now. He'll beat us there either way."

"Jimmy is here?" Ben cried out, and was given a few plaintive glances for his trouble. Instantly, he felt ready to call it a day. Jimmy had made it back to the 2nd Mass, that's all he needed. Yet at the same time, there was that nag of betrayal, Jimmy had returned without him, and it felt as though it meant something but as to what Ben wasn't exactly sure.

"Right. Let's get going then. Doc, I'm sorry for your loss, and I know you're hurting, but we need to move now," Weaver shouted.

"Come on, doc, you can walk with me," Maggie gently offered and Dr. Glass buried her face in her hand, allowed herself to be lead away from Uncle Scott's body by the young woman.

It felt different moving from that building with the group of children flanked on all sides by a great deal more fighters than before. Not having to play the role of vanguard, Ben could move alongside Matt, his hand resting heavy on his younger brother's shoulder. Weaver fell into step beside them, rifle relaxed but gripped tight, ready to be slung up into action should the need arise.

"Dai's group secured some vehicles back at the community center, Hal and a couple other fighters are on bike drawing enemy attention and searching out other survivors, pointing them the right direction. When we reach the sewers, civilians and kids are heading in with Jimmy. We got a rendezvous point outside town, if any of the other civilian groups made it out, they'd be headed that way," Weaver rattled off explanation, "When we get to the sewers, I need you with me. We still got to get those vehicles out, and cut the enemy off our tail, give us a running start."

"What are we going to do?" Ben asked, tightening his grip on Matt, relieved to hear Hal was safe but with mixed feelings about his being on the road acting as a moving target, and instantly hating that the reunion with Jimmy would be short at best, though most likely limited to a mere glimpse and swift parting.

"Dai and Jimmy were kind enough to cook up some napalm, I thought we might put it to use, maybe build a wall of fire," Weaver answered mock cheerfully.

"Awesome," Matt grinned, features falling when Ben moved his hand to the top of Matt's head, a silent reprimanding.

"Oh. Okay. Light the town on fire. That makes sense. How did they make napalm?" Ben gaped.

"Well, how did you guys make a bomb out of supplies from a hardware store? I don't know. I suppose you'll have to ask them when we finally have a chance to breathe," Weaver replied, and broke away to rejoin the front guard.

Ben set his jaw and drew Matt closer towards himself. There were other things he felt he might need to ask Jimmy, admittedly, though, he didn't plan on doing a whole hell of a lot of talking, and maybe not a whole lot of breathing either, when they had the chance and, more importantly, the private moment to fully take advantage of each other's surviving the recent attempts on their lives.

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AN: Yup, this chapter ran quick. Lot of back and forth with the boys. They're "big" reunion will be soon-ish. And, the much anticipated return of a character is coming up soon...

Please let me know what you think!

Reviewers: Sassysavanna190, lol, I'll try to get the story finished for you. Yes, many of our fave 2nd Mass-ers are safe and sound, and a lot of red shirts are dead, dead, dead. I love your enthusiasm! Answer: I don't watch Falling Skies anymore, stopped on S2, episode 5 after the first ten minutes in. And since Leverage never got renewed, I don't watch anything on TNT, therefore, nope, I haven't seen the S3 trailer and I couldn't care less, but I am glad that you're excited. I hope you all enjoy the next season, seriously! Dee, lousy at writing reviews? If that's lousy, then I can only wonder what you you think an awesome review looks like. Thank you for speaking up, though, I'm glad the story still has you enthralled. You're absolutely right about Ben needing to talk to Jimmy about what's going on. And 20 chapters until that big reveal? Wow, you're optimistic. And Tom finding out about Jimmy and Ben will be a fun chapter indeed. Guest, hehe, yeah, sometimes just gotta let the characters be goofy. IcicleLilly, hey, you're still reading! Yes, Hal is infuriating. PsycLinc, glad you liked them so much! LOL, yes, Jimmy is a rare boy, though his dislike of porn is less about the porn per se and kind of along the lines of why he doesn't like motel rooms. RemedyRay, I wish I could update everyday too...then that would mean the story was finished. Sigh. Just keep swimming, right? TyphoonBoom08, you're back! So there's the first fast pace chapter, hopefully it was still good? Also, you're "sum up" of the last three chapters really made my day. I loved your assessment of everything. Looking forward to hearing from you again! Cookie97, you know, funny thing, I'm thinking no one noticed, either that or they didn't mention it, but Cole did actually appear in this story before Falling Snow. I was actually reluctant to use him in Falling Snow, because it would spoil a big part of Ben's history that I'd yet to reveal in this story. Oh well, Matt is better in this chapter, see? All good. For now. Bwahahahahahahah!

Right, thank you all for coming out. Hopefully I'll hear from some of you again this chapter? And I'll definitely see you all next Sunday. Back to the grindstone...


	48. Chapter 48

AN:Thanks for the reviews, you guys are awesome! And thank you to Greg for beta-ing.

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XLVIII.

Jimmy hadn't been thrilled to reach the daycare center and find out that, not only was it under heavy attack, but Ben had volunteered to run inside and play human shield, while Weaver and the other fighters dreamed up methods to get passed the mess of Skitters and Mechs out front. There were some cars along the street that looked to have been abandoned during the invasion, meaning they most likely had gas still in the fuel tanks, so of course, Dai suggested setting them in neutral, shoving them towards the fray, and essentially using them as bombs.

Once Weaver was updated on the situation at the community center, he determined that getting the hell out of Dodge seemed to be in order. Southwest had been the direction he'd sent the civilians earlier, and there were several camp spots he'd highlighted that direction prior to the attacks, it seemed the best way to run. As soon as he heard about the napalm, he decided lighting things on fire seemed the easiest and most effective distraction for the enemy, it could also serve as a signal for everyone to sprint for freedom, and thus, Jimmy was sent to resume his role as sewer boy, with the added titles of 'messenger boy' and 'delivery boy'. Weaver wanted Jimmy to head back to the community center and pass the instructions on and fetch the napalm, then Jimmy would continue to play tour guide when the children were rescued from the center, leading them out of town towards a determined rendezvous point along the highway. Meanwhile, another pair of fighters went to flag down Hal's team and give them the new orders.

Getting back to the community center went smooth. Jimmy bolted through the underground corridors, traversing the pathway back on memory alone, unaware of his own inability to breathe, as he raced up the stairs to the community center and bolted onto the roof.

"Jimmy? What the hell…?" Anthony started in surprise, the others spinning round in stun at the sudden arrival as well.

"Weaver…daycare center…need napalm," Jimmy coughed out, clutching his sides as he gasped for air. He really needed to stop smoking, but dear God, how he would kill for a cigarette right then.

"You found Weaver?" Anthony demanded.

"And he wants to light a daycare center on fire, don't forget that part. Can't say I blame you, though, kid, never much liked those places myself," Pope added disinterestedly.

"Is there a plan in there somewhere? Or are we just handing over our best weapon right now?" Lyle wondered.

"Yeah…head southwest," Jimmy nodded, coughing and finally managing to keep some air in his lungs long enough to string a few coherent words together, "Weavers wants to start up a fire, on the east side…when you guys see flames, you have to move…"

"That's the plan? Feels a little lacking in finesse," Tector complained.

"And sanity," Boon put in.

Then they both smirked at one another and decided in unity, "We're in."

"So…can I get the napalm?" Jimmy said, looking expectant at the others.

"Well, wait," Anthony replied, "We got to send a runner out to the cars, get the message to our drivers."

"And you're volunteering the kid, I like you're thinking," Pope grinned, slapping Anthony's shoulder approvingly, "He's squirrely, I bet he runs fast."

"No," Anthony groaned, and Jimmy made a face, glancing down at himself self-consciously and mouthing the word 'squirrely', "I'm thinking we should get Weaver a few presents from the munitions truck. Give him the best chance we can."

"Oh, good, well, that's nice thinking, officer friendly. But if not the kid, then who's running out to the munitions truck?" Pope demanded, and Anthony gave Pope a pointed look, causing Pope to scoff in mildly comical anger, "Have you completely forgotten, mister uptight and orderly, that I am a criminal and not to be trusted?"

"I'll do it," Jimmy sighed.

"No, we need you," Anthony said.

"And what the hell am I?" Pope cried, making a show of indignation, "You know, here I thought we were becoming fast friends, bonding over bullets. A cop and a criminal, best buds, we could've been a variety show or a sitcom. I was thinking of getting you a decoder ring and everything."

"Oh shut up, Pope. I'll do it," Anthony growled, passing his rifle off to Jimmy, "Watch my back, huh?"

"Yeah, sure. Be careful," Jimmy replied, tentatively taking the offered gun and watching Anthony's hasty retreat down the stairs a few seconds before taking up position on the roof's edge. He could feel the heated glares of the others on him and glanced questioningly at them.

"Maybe you can answer a question for us, kid," Lyle jeered.

Jimmy shifted uncomfortably, suddenly remembering he was trapped on the roof with the 2nd Mass's anti-alien patrol and 'Kill All Razorback' spokespersons.

He grumbled, "What?"

"You know what bestiality is, right?"

Jimmy frowned, shrugged, and slowly, reluctantly shook his head, peeking through the scope of his rifle to get a lay of the land below. He didn't know where the conversation was going, but he felt certain he wouldn't like where it ended up.

"It's when a person, human, right? Screws around with something not human, like an animal," Crazy Lee explained.

"Okay," Jimmy mumbled, taking a quick enemy count and noting the wind-speed, direction. He knew Anthony would be moving into position soon. Many of the Skitter numbers had died down around the center, Jimmy assumed because they headed off for the daycare center, which didn't exactly sit well with him.

"Those kids, that had the harness removed, they ain't quite human anymore," Lyle persisted, and Jimmy's stomach bottomed out, "So if you screw around with one of them, would that be bestiality, you think?"

"Are you guys going to give Anthony cover fire, or not?" Jimmy returned his words rigid and sharply edged. The others laughed, shuffling towards the roof edge to line up their own rifles.

"What's your rush? You act like this is an emergency or something," Crazy Lee joked, causing the others to laugh again.

They saw Anthony leave the center below and opened fire, drawing the enemy towards themselves, taking out as many as they could, and giving Anthony a clear path for the cars. He made a beeline for the munitions truck, pausing briefly at each car in passing to get the orders relayed, then he climbed into the back of the truck, reappearing minutes later with a sack, and sprinting back to the center entrance. Anthony returned to the roof and exchanged the sack for his rifle, and Jimmy took a peek inside.

"Presents," Jimmy smirked, shouldering the sack, "I think Weaver'll like it."

"Better get a move on," Anthony instructed Jimmy.

Jimmy didn't hesitate. He barely heard their called good-byes and good-lucks, before he found himself blazing another path through the sewers again. Although his body was in burning pain from the earlier run, the day's events overall, and he felt ready to pass out for a hundred years, he felt almost numb to it, because he knew Ben was on the other side. Jimmy needed to see for himself that Ben was alright, maybe then he could relax a little.

…

As predicted, Jimmy was waiting at the sewer entrance, and climbed out to greet the group when they arrived. Ben watched almost enviously as Captain Weaver, Dai, and a few other fighters moved forward to exchange words with Jimmy, while himself remaining at the back of the crowd and just examining the other boy, reveling in his appearance and that they were finally in close proximity to one another after so many hours of uncertainty and anxiousness, only slightly overshadowed with the frustration that they'd be parting ways again soon without so much as a word or touch.

Jimmy looked in good shape, or as good a shape as any of them looked at that moment. A bit bruised and battered, caked in blood and mud and who knew – or wanted to know – what else. Jimmy passed over a sack he had across his shoulders to Captain Weaver, shook hands with the men, and for a brief second, sought out Ben's eyes through the crowd. They held each other's gaze long enough to send a flurry of emotions, passing to one another their fear, their worry, their relief, but it wasn't nearly long enough for Ben when Jimmy turned away and descended back into the dank tunnels below. He felt instantly crushed knowing it would be another several hours, at least, before they'd have the chance to so much as glimpse one another again. In too many ways, it wasn't fair.

Ben sighed, kneeling down to eye level with Matt and gripping his younger brother's shoulders.

"You have to go with Jimmy," he started.

"Yeah, I know," Matt grumbled, scowling into the distance.

"Hey, you," Ben murmured, cupping Matt's cheek and forcing the petulant boy's eyes onto him, "I heard you in there, the daycare. You were brave. I'm proud of you."

"I can fight, you know," Matt insisted, "I'm not just some stupid little kid. I'm strong. You and Hal aren't the only ones that can fight and save the day and everything, I can too. This isn't just your guys' war, it's mine too."

"I know that," Ben returned softly, "That's why I'm going to ask you to do me a favor?"

"What?" Matt mumbled, dropping his chin and frowning at the ground.

"Me and Jimmy, when we're together, we watch out for each other, right? But we aren't going to be together for this last battle, and you know how we haven't been together all day and I've been really worried about him," Ben said.

"Yeah," Matt agreed, loosening his stance and peeking curiously at Ben.

"Yeah, well, now I know you're going to be with him, so I feel a little better about it," Ben admitted, it wasn't entirely true, if anything it made him feel worse – two of the people he cared most about in the world together in one place heightened the risk of losing them both in one fell swoop, but Matt's expression perked slightly, and that made the lie worth it, "Jimmy is going to take care of you, it's his job and he's good at it, but I need you to take care of him too. Do you think you can do that?"

"Yes, I can," Matt grinned, "I definitely can. I'll do a really good job at it, Ben, you can count on me!"

"I know you will," Ben smiled, ruffling Matt's hair and lifting himself up, "Get going, okay."

"Okay. I'll take care of him," Matt promised, starting hastily towards the sewer entrance, then stumbled to a halt and turned back slightly, calling back over his shoulder, "Ben? Who'll take care of you?"

Ben offered up a wry smirk then Weaver called for Ben to join ranks, receiving a rifle forfeited by a civilian on arrival, and Matt was tugged towards the sewer entrance by Dr. Glass, somewhat overcoming the daze from her recent losses. Not far in their trek down the road, Weaver fell in-step with Ben.

"Assuming those scouts got word to your brother, our bike unit will be heading back up towards the north side of town from the west end with the bulk of our enemy," Weaver started explanations, "Our friends at the community center sent us a jug of gas, not that we can afford to lose any fuel but we're about to drop a few vehicles so it shouldn't hurt us too hard, we got a few empty bottles and they threw in a couple plastic explosives just for the hell of it. I'm sending Maggie, with Derrick and Val to lay down a line of fire with that napalm along that street with the windmill house, you know the one?"

"Yeah," Ben mumbled, frowning and distantly noting, "It's across from one with a waterfall in the backyard."

"Right, well, that's going to be our holding ground. Me and the rest will rig a few of the old junkers along the road to blow when those Skitters come this way. I need you to take the explosives; you'll be our front line, prep for Mechs. We got ten minutes to set up and one hour to distract the enemy, give those vehicles time to run, then Jimmy should've doubled back round by then, he'll lead us underground to the rendezvous point. You need to be there and ready to go when he arrives, understand?"

"Yes, sir," Ben answered, shouldering his rifle, then cleared his throat and wondered, "What if they didn't get word to Hal?"

Weaver didn't reply, and broke off towards the front of the group.

Set up went fast; there wasn't much time to waste. Several of the fighters worked at pushing cars into position and turning them into eventual bombs, while Maggie and her team spread the napalm. They would light it when the bikers crossed the line. Ben chose a perch in one of the neighborhood trees, obscured by the foliage but given a clear view of the street. He'd attempt to take out what Skitters he could when the bikes came into sight, but he wouldn't be staying in the tree long. Weaver intended for Ben to take out whatever Mechs might be coming.

Ben heard the bikes before he saw them. They were coming at a slow pace, sure to keep the aliens on their trail, though they picked up the speed every so often to keep ahead of the enemy. From the sounds of things, they had quite the pack of Skitters on them, and a few Mechs thundering after them as well.

The first biker to come into view wasn't Hal, but she had a Skitter nipping on her heels, and Ben fired off a few rounds to take it down.

The second biker, however, was unmistakably Ben's brother. Hal zoomed ahead several yards, whipping the bike round to a halt, and swinging his rifle round to let of a few shots, shouting cocky proclamations at the enemy to keep its attention, and Ben couldn't help but smirk somewhat fondly, relief spilling undeniably through him at the familiar sight: his brother; ever the obnoxious showoff.

Then the three bikers whipped across the napalm line and it immediately lit. Ben continued to fire on the Skitters from the safety of his tree a moment, and then dropped to the ground as soon as a Mech walked into sight. He managed to set off the plastic explosive under its foot, and then in his effort to dodge the explosion, nearly threw himself in front of a Molotov cocktail whizzing by into the chaos of Skitters, setting them ablaze.

Ben climbed to his feet, spat out a clot of blood from his mouth, and opened fire on an oncoming rush of Skitters.

…

Leading a flock of children through the sewers, at the time, seemed like an impressively bad idea and it increasingly proved itself true with each passing minute. Jimmy tried his best to keep the group moving at an optimal speed, but the fastest they could move was ridiculously slow compared to his fastest.

"Come on, come on, pick up the pace," he growled, muttering under his breath, "Fuck, fuck, fuck…"

"Is something wrong?" Matt anxiously piped question beside Jimmy. The youngest Mason had been the exception to the group, attaching himself to Jimmy's side and refusing to fall behind even a fraction of a step. Jimmy had almost tripped over him several times and it was becoming a nuisance.

"Oh no, everything is great. 'Cause, you know, it's not like we're on a deadline or anything, and Captain Weaver and everyone else are relying on me to get back to them and lead them to safety. No, not at all, everyone can just keep dragging their feet and acting like we're on a fucking holiday in the sewers," Jimmy ranted under his breath.

Matt stared blankly in return.

"It's fine," Jimmy muttered, sighing and rubbing his face haggardly, "How are you, kid, you doing alright?"

"I guess," Matt replied softly. Scurrying to keep up and ramming right into Jimmy when he paused to consider which direction to take next and let the group catch up. Jimmy growled low in his throat, and then shook his head; glancing Matt darting apologetic looks up at him.

"Could you maybe give me a few inches of space?" Jimmy demanded gently.

"Yeah, sorry," Matt agreed, taking a step back, though the moment Jimmy moved, he reattached himself to Jimmy's hip, bumping into Jimmy when they rounded a corner.

"Okay, what is the deal? Are you afraid of the dark or something?" Jimmy snapped, instantly regretting it at the hurt look that crossed Matt's features, "Well…I mean…because that's cool and all, if you are…but I think Dr. Glass would be better at…"

"No, I'm not scared," Matt interjected heatedly, his voice hitching slightly, as he carefully explained, "I'm supposed to watch you."

Jimmy perked a brow at that, "Watch me…for what? Am I going to do something?"

"No," Matt mumbled, exasperated, and sighing, "I'm looking out for you. Ben told me to."

Jimmy blinked once, made a face, and then rubbed his expression away with a weary palm. Part of him wasn't sure how to respond. It was bad enough Ben didn't trust Jimmy alone on the battlefield, but wasn't assigning his nine year old brother as Jimmy's baby-sitter crossing a line somewhere? Of course, Jimmy reminded himself, that scenario was ridiculous which meant something else had to be going on.

"Okay," Jimmy relented, "That's fine. But you don't have to be so close to do it. Do you?"

"Well…" Matt fidgeted slightly, and meekly confessed, "I can't see very well down here. But I don't want to let Ben down…"

"Right," Jimmy sighed. He gestured Matt forward, and they continued at the same stop and go pace.

"I said a bad thing," Matt whispered.

"So? I say bad things all the time," Jimmy muttered.

"About you," Matt admitted.

"Oh." Jimmy scowled, picking absently at the thick coating of dried blood and dirt on his fingers. There weren't many things that he could say in return to such an admission. It was starting to become a habit of the Mason brothers, saying bad things about him.

"Maybe I thought some bad things too," Matt went on, dropping his eyes and murmuring, "When I was younger, before the aliens came, Hal never spent time with me. Not really anyway. Not unless mom and dad made him. It was always Ben."

"I guess that makes sense. Hal's older, he was probably more interested in girls and crap," Jimmy said.

"But now, it's different. Hal spends time with me, but he acts like it's because he has to…like he has to be dad," Matt continued and Jimmy flinched slightly at the mention of the missing professor, but made no comment, "And Ben doesn't spend time with me at all. Not unless someone makes him, like Hal. Or you."

"Matt," Jimmy began but Matt interrupted before he could find the right way to express his sympathy.

"I said…and I thought bad things about you, a lot of bad things," Matt admitted, then dropped his voice so low Jimmy could barely hear him, "I'm starting to really hate you."

"Oh. I didn't know," Jimmy mumbled.

"But then, Ben was going to leave me alone, during the attack, right? And I said something really bad about you," Matt persisted, then frowned and sighed and said, "It was wrong. I didn't really feel that way, I didn't really agree with the bad things I said, I was just mad at Ben, so I said them."

"I understand. I do that too," Jimmy replied earnestly, "Everyone says things they don't mean when they're mad."

"I just don't know if it's okay."

"What? Saying bad things about people? Not really…but you can't help it…"

"No," Matt groaned, "That's not what I mean. I don't know if…I'm not sure if it's okay that…if I'm okay that…that you're more important."

Jimmy fell silent. He felt suddenly cold, his heart hammering away in his chest, angry and erratic.

"He cares about you more than me," Matt determined, "More than me…probably dad…and Hal, too."

"That's not true," Jimmy insisted, "When we were out at that alien thing, all he could think about was getting back here to make sure you and Hal were safe. He was really worried about you both."

"I don't want to think bad things about you. I don't want to hurt your feelings or make you mad at me," Matt whispered, "But I just get so mad at Ben…"

"Then it's okay," Jimmy decided, gingerly touching a comforting hand to Matt's shoulder, "If you have to think bad things about me, then it's okay."

"You won't hate me?" Matt wondered.

"No," Jimmy said, smiling reassuringly, "You can say all the bad things about me that you need to when you're mad at Ben. I won't hate you, ever, okay?"

"Okay. Thanks, Jimmy," Matt murmured, wiping at his cheeks, though if he shed tears, Jimmy couldn't see them in the dark corridors.

When they reached their destination, they found the salvaged vehicles waiting for them, and a whole mess of 2nd Mass survivors that had apparently fled on instinct at the sight of flames – which were obvious against the horizon even at their distance. Jimmy left Matt in Lourdes's care. Dr. Glass, despite obvious grief, was working on treating the injured. Anthony was barking out orders, trying to keep the peace, and arguing with Pope every so often.

Jimmy let Anthony know he was heading back to retrieve their fighters. He glanced Roman, Douglas, and Gia on the way back into the sewers. They seemed to be putting forth the best effort to help out. He nodded acknowledgement their direction, then slipped back underground and took off running.

Getting to the meet-up point with Weaver and the others couldn't come fast enough. He waited with breath bated, noting every fighter that descended the ladder, growing nervous, anxious, scared-shitless every time it wasn't Ben. Then it seemed no one else would be coming through, the manhole cover clanking into place and Jimmy worried his inner cheek, taking a deep breath and, body quaking with emotion, he led the way back towards the rendezvous outside of town.

It wasn't until they were back with the others, Weaver casting out orders, head counts getting taken, the 2nd Mass preparing to haul-ass towards some hope at sanctuary in a distant location, and the sight of Ben speaking with his brothers and being treated by Dr. Glass, along with the realization that he'd ridden in on the bike with Hal, that Jimmy finally released the air from his lungs. Then he stumbled through the camp until he found a quiet place to collapse, his whole body prickling with icicles, his head awash with fog. He examined his hand, tingling from the fingertips into his palm and down his forearm, the hand that reached back at the outstretched alien mass and touched it for a brief second of an emotional riptide. The skin of that hand was like the other strange patches of discoloration that came and went all over his body, seemingly translucent and brilliantly iridescent.

He knew he should wonder about it, be taken aback even, but he didn't have the wherewithal at the moment to care. So he closed his eyes and drifted into a cold sea of black.

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AN: Right, let me know what you think!

Reviewers: NoxOne: Cool. Glad you thought so. I hate writing fight scenes. Dee, completely agree with the Dai/Jimmy relationship on the show, but that's a rant I shouldn't get into...again. And you know, I didn't plan for that Maggie/Jimmy moment to land on Mother's Day, but it did seem well-timed, thanks for pointing it out, I hadn't even noticed. It definitely befits the scene. And everyone knows I love writing Maggie/Jimmy stuff. Lol, he did have Ben on the mind a bit, right? Well, we'll see how their reunion goes in another chapter or two, I guess. :D SassySavanna190, I like writing the back and forth, so I'm glad you loved it, and if the boys learning of the other's well-being made you feel so good, I wonder how them finally being within visual distance of one another, even close enough to touch if they wanted, will make you feel. Yeah, I kind of wanted to reveal the backstories of a lot of the characters I felt were a bit underdeveloped in the show and, at the same time, reveal their relationship with Jimmy. So glad you liked it. Near-death experiences make a person horny, huh? Man, no wonder there's so much sex going on in the 2nd Mass on the show...RemedyRay, awww, that's sweet of you to say. I'm glad to know you like the cliffhanger endings, sometimes it just happens that way. And yeah, I debated on killing off Uncle Scott to be honest, but when he found out about Ben's glowing spikes and was pushing for Ben to fess up to the group, I knew he needed to go.

Thanks again for the reviews you guys, you make writing this worth it. Which, I need to get a lot of writing done on this story today...root for me, or drop a few words of encouragement, please? Maybe?

I'll see you guys next Sunday!


	49. Chapter 49

AN: Thank you for the reviews you guys.

Thank you to Greg for beta-ing.

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XLIX.

Although they managed to get out of the town, the 2nd Mass was far from safe. Some of the enemy units were in hot pursuit. They'd suffered so many casualties during the assaults, diminished to nearly half their original numbers, and those fighters that survived were in such rough shape that there was no possible way they could muster another fight. Their only option was to run, which meant they needed to stay in constant motion. Fighters were assigned patrol in rounds, grabbing half-hour breaks between four-sometimes-five hour shifts, by the seventh day they were all beyond exhaustion.

The group relied most heavily on Ben. He didn't need as much rest, so could work longer shifts. He was juggled around, would cover for a patrolman on one side of the group for a few hours, then go directly to the other side and cover for another patrolman. He hadn't spoken to Jimmy since the run from town, he was lucky to see the other boy in passing. It was on one of his rare breaks that he finally found an opportunity, spotting Jimmy on patrol with another fighter. Ben slipped around, grabbed hold of Jimmy by the shoulders when no one was looking, dragged him behind a tree, pinned him to its trunk and crushed him in a breathtaking kiss.

"Ben," Jimmy gasped protest as soon as he managed to struggle free, "What the hell, man? I'm on patrol."

"We're always on patrol. We can take two minutes," Ben returned, darting a quick peek at their passing caravan, then twining their fingers and resting their foreheads lightly together, he whispered, "I missed you."

Jimmy frowned, but his features softened, "_One_ minute," he leaned into Ben, murmuring against Ben's lips, "I missed you, too."

They melded together, mouths parting to let their tongues entangle themselves until, "Ben," a familiar voice bellowed from camp, nearly in unison to Jimmy's patrol partner hissing, "Jimmy?"

Ben winced, scowling, as Jimmy pushed him gently away.

"We got to get back," Jimmy recommended, but Ben refused to relinquish his hold, expression hardened.

"When are we going to have a chance to talk?" Ben wondered.

"I don't know; probably not anytime soon."

Ben made a face and Jimmy rolled his eyes.

"I'll find you later tonight, when I get off patrol," Jimmy suggested, then sighed, "_If_ I ever get off patrol."

They kissed once more, then Jimmy slipped out of Ben's embrace and darted through the trees towards his patrol partner searching for him and Ben wandered back to report in to Weaver. It was nearly another five hours later when Jimmy finally got off patrol, only to end up on weapons detail for a few hours afterwards. He finally got a moment's break when the caravan had stopped for dinner; he grabbed a granola pack snack and bottle of water and went looking for Ben. He found Roman instead, leaned against a tree on the group's fringe.

"Where's Gia and Doug?" Jimmy asked, tentatively approaching the older boy while taking a casual sip of his water.

Roman shrugged, quietly noted, "Probably off somewhere talking about Kelsey."

Jimmy nodded, and remained respectfully silent. He and the girl hadn't really gotten along. She unnerved him, plain and simple. She meant something to Roman, what that was exactly wasn't entirely clear, but Jimmy knew the other boy felt lost without her and Jimmy didn't want to make it any worse for him.

"I never thanked you," Roman said, and Jimmy wrinkled his brow in question, "For not saying anything, when I lied to your friends."

"Anthony's my friend, but Pope and the others…" Jimmy rambled correction, frowning at the strange fluster he suddenly felt by Roman's uncharacteristic moment of modesty. He cleared his throat and, with his head ducked down, went to lean next to Roman against the tree, "It would be nice, show of good faith, if you told me why you lied and what exactly it is I'm covering for you guys."

"I can't tell you," Roman mumbled.

"Right," Jimmy scoffed, shaking his head and starting away, "Whatever."

"No. I mean, I really can't tell you," Roman called after and Jimmy faltered, turning back curiously. The older boy had his face turned away, his features darkened and touched with a hint of sadness.

"You don't know why she left, do you?" Jimmy guessed, taking a step back towards Roman, "Why was it that you guys wanted to go out to that structure? Destroying the source of a signal only you guys could hear doesn't make sense, there's got to me more to it."

"Exactly like Kelsey said, to get in good with the group," Roman explained.

"I know that's bullshit, so try again."

"It's not bullshit, that's what it was about for us," Roman insisted, "To prove our worth to the group," he took a deep breath and dropped his chin, quietly admitting, "And to prove…to prove your razorback needed to go."

Jimmy narrowed his eyes dangerously on Roman, and seethed, "You thought you would catch Ben out there conspiring with the aliens or something, huh? Asshole…"

"And what of it," Roman shot back, "You still trust him, after everything that has happened?"

"Yes," Jimmy answered without hesitance, then challenged, "What exactly did he do back there that makes you think I should stop trusting him? I trust him even more after everything, and you guys, not so much…"

"Aliens showed up at camp at the right moment when those two were long gone. How do you explain that? Not to mention, he abandoned you out there, Jimmy."

"When we arrived Ben and Rick were pinned down," Jimmy returned sharply, "They were almost dead…"

"They walked away just fine though when we showed up to 'save them'," Roman pointed out, "You're still just ignoring that he _abandoned_ you back there, and where the fuck did Rick go, huh? Maybe it was all a plan, to get Rick out of there in a way that no one would ask questions…"

"You really think you've got the room to talk with Kelsey gone?" Jimmy growled, "Ben didn't abandon me, he just…"

"What? Just…lost control? Same way he loses control and you get another bruise…"

"Fuck you," Jimmy spat, "You don't know anything about it."

"I know everything about it. I wrote the book about it," Roman hissed back, "Cute guy, real sweet, treats you like the center of his world, like his life can't go on without you in it and you feel like it's better than you deserve, like you aren't worthy of him and his affections, because every day of your life you've been told you're the lowest piece of shit in the world, so when he knocks you around a bit, you feel like it's okay, like it balances out."

"That's not how it is," Jimmy argued.

"And what if it is? What if the aliens are controlling him? Forcing him to treat you nice, sweet talk you so that you'll do whatever he needs you to do for him," Roman continued, "Back him up when people suspect him, cover for him, _lie _for him…"

"Shut up," Jimmy murmured, stomach churning in disgust. How carelessly those words fell off Ben's tongue: _I care about you, I like you, and I need you_. Most days they barely knew one another, forgetting that they'd only really just met. Such sentiments seemed to come easy to Ben, as though he didn't even know what they meant, the full extent of their value, but maybe he didn't need to, maybe they were all just a means to the aliens' end.

"Make excuses for him, like you're doing now. He didn't abandon you out there, right? He just…disappeared for some reason, and Rick just disappeared," Roman persisted, "But it's not because of the aliens because if it was because of the aliens then that would mean he's still under their control and nothing he says to you is true and that you don't actually mean shit to him."

"Kind of like you don't mean shit to Kelsey," Jimmy quietly stated. He flinched back involuntarily when Roman closed the distance between them, but the strike he expected never came. Just the blast of heat and the sweet scent of the older boy's sudden close proximity. He peeked up at Roman, and was startled by the older boy's expression, conflicted and somewhat sad.

Roman smirked, loosened his stance, "I recall hearing something once, about your mouth, brat."

"Yeah, I know, it's the worst thing about me sometimes," Jimmy admitted.

"I don't know," Roman smiled, leaned in a bit, eyes burning intent on Jimmy's own shivering blue, "I'm starting to really like it, myself."

"Oh…okay…I should go," Jimmy stammered, stumbling back a few steps.

"Right, you should run and find your razorback, see if he needs something from you, an alibi or a punching bag," Roman grumbled, falling back towards the tree once more, leering at Jimmy, "And everyone thinks _he's_ the dog…"

"Do you ever get tired of being an asshole?" Jimmy demanded, shaking with confused frustration, a strange chill rippling through his body. One minute Roman is thanking Jimmy; the next Roman is attacking him then flirting with him and now insulting him. Jimmy wasn't entirely certain Roman even knew what it was he wanted from Jimmy.

"Do you ever get tired of being his bitch?" Roman sneered.

"Let me ask you, Rome, what exactly did you do back there that was so fucking special, huh?" Jimmy seethed, reeling on the older boy, "Besides strut around like one incredibly arrogant idiot and run your mouth off just to prove how stupid you are; what is it that you did to earn the admiration you seem to think I owe you so much?"

Roman tilted his chin down, snorted softly.

"That's what I thought," Jimmy scoffed, "Whether you, or anyone else in this camp for that matter, trusts him or not, Ben is still the better fighter and he still came through in the end which is more than can be said for you or anyone else..."

"What about you?" Roman asked and Jimmy faltered.

"What?"

"You always make him sound like some great hero but what exactly did he do out there that was so great?" Roman demanded, "Weren't you the one who came up with the plan to take down that alien structure, built the bombs, led the entire group to safety? And what did he do? Disappeared, abandoned us, and got the handy man killed…"

"I'm done," Jimmy muttered, starting away again, determined to actually leave this time, when Roman grabbed hold of his arm, jerking him back.

"Really? Because it's just getting good…"

It might have been the cool air, the lack of sleep, food, abrupt movement or a mix of everything, but when Roman grabbed hold and yanked him back, Jimmy lost his footing, nearly tumbling to the ground, and Roman's arm caught him round the waist, as his stomach twisted suddenly with nausea, his water and what little of the granola he'd eaten spewing across the ground, body convulsing violently. Though Roman maneuvered awkwardly to dodge the spray, he kept a surprising hold on Jimmy, using his hand to swipe the younger boy's hair back from his face.

When it was over Jimmy slapped a shocked hand over his mouth, choking for breath. He took a moment to recover and then realized Roman was carefully cradling him, keeping him steady on his feet. Jimmy instantly pulled back, staggering back a pace, but Roman still had to reach a hand out, grip his shoulder to keep him from falling over.

"What the fuck? Are you drunk or something, brat?" Roman asked, he kept his tone light though it wavered slightly with concern.

"No. I don't…" Jimmy stammered, spitting any last remnants of vomit out of his mouth then wiping the spittle from his lips with the back of his palm, "I'm not."

"You eat something weird then…?"

"No. Nothing. I don't know."

"And are you always so cold to the touch?" Roman continued, pressing his palm to Jimmy forehead, only for Jimmy to quickly swipe it away.

"It's none of your business," Jimmy whispered harshly, pushing Roman back and doing his best to ignore the hurt look that flashed across the older boy's features, "I'm fine. I probably just…caught a cold or something. I need to go."

"You keep saying that, brat, but you haven't yet. You sure it's the truth?" Roman asked, his voice a low rumble, his lip curled up in bemusement.

Jimmy shook his head, folded his arms over his chest, and slowly started back towards camp, passing Gia and Douglas along the way, the pair headed for their friend. They whispered greeting and he nodded acknowledgment, but didn't pause, certain if he did he'd end up pulled back into Roman's dense gravitational field and wouldn't be able to prove the smug bastard wrong on at least one thing he'd said their entire conversation.

Jimmy staggered to a slow pace, shoulders slumping slightly, eyes trailing the ground. Not that he believed the things Roman claimed about Ben, it was just hard to argue with them when the other side was entirely convinced of Ben's guilt and all Jimmy had to go on were his feelings for Ben. That didn't mean that his judgment was clouded where Ben was concerned. And maybe Roman was right that Jimmy didn't think he entirely deserved Ben, but that didn't mean he let Ben get away with things. They argued, and Jimmy won most of the time…er…some of the time…they compromised, anyway, and neither ever really won or lost.

According to another fighter, Ben took up post guarding the rear of camp. They'd traveled into another urban area, and Jimmy wandered through the debris and ruin in search, finding himself walking nearly a quarter to half mile back as thoughts dark and growing darker tumbling through his head. He didn't realize how distracted he'd become when he nearly walked right into the path of several scouting Skitters. A hand slipped over his mouth, dragged him behind cover, and he sank almost instinctively back into the familiar warmth and smell. The hand fell away, and lips nestled soft against his neck

'What are you doing out here?' Ben mouthed against Jimmy's skin, hot breath scorching through him.

'Looking for you,' Jimmy replied, expertly silent, he delicately turned and searched out Ben's eyes in the night's low light.

Ben pushed away Jimmy's hair, placed a kiss on his mouth, then pulled away slightly and made an odd face.

'I puked earlier,' Jimmy softly explained voice just below a whisper. He sheepishly covered his mouth, wincing somewhat apologetically, and Ben perked a startled brow.

'You okay?'

Jimmy nodded reassurance, and Ben brushed a kiss across his cheek, then Ben unsheathed his blade and motioned at Jimmy's rifle. Jimmy positioned the gun at ready, and Ben signaled that there were five Skitters in the area.

'I'll draw their attention,' Ben decided, signaling for Jimmy to take out the Skitters from their current position. Jimmy frowned, he didn't like the plan; increasingly all of the recent plans made were putting Ben in the greatest position of danger, but Jimmy nodded agreement regardless. He readied himself as Ben slipped out of hiding, snuck up on the first Skitter and drove his knife through the base of its neck. Its death wail instantly drew the other Skitters back and between Jimmy's rapid fire, and Ben's knife, they were all dead in milliseconds.

Ben cleaned his blade, re-sheathed it as he meandered back towards Jimmy, eyeing the other boy with a sudden hunger burning in his eyes and a restless energy cascading from him in droves.

"It's been awhile since we've worked together like this, just you and me, I almost forgot what a perfect team we make," Ben whispered excitedly, swiftly closing the distance between Jimmy and himself and crushing an explorative kiss to Jimmy's mouth before Jimmy could stop him.

They rapidly broke apart and Ben wrinkled his nose.

"Vomit taste," he complained.

"Sorry. I have toothpaste back at camp," Jimmy murmured.

"Actually, this might be more fun. Where can I kiss you besides your mouth?" Ben teased, and as though to answer his own musing, dotted kisses up alongside Jimmy's jawline, pushing the hair away to suckle his ear. Jimmy whimpered, slipping his hands up under Ben's shirt to ripple over hardened muscle and soak up Ben's warmth.

"Ben, wait," he murmured, struggling away from Ben's ministrations, feeling suddenly sapped of air, "I thought we were going to talk."

"Seriously?" Ben groaned, pulling away and taking his warmth with him, stalking a few paces from Jimmy, rubbing his face furiously, then turning back to set a hardened glare on the other boy, "We haven't seen each other in over a week…."

"We've seen each other."

Ben fixed Jimmy with a severe look and Jimmy dropped his gaze, nibbling his inner cheek.

"Fine. What do you want to talk about?" Ben demanded.

"What happened back there?" Jimmy questioned, shoving his hands in his pockets and shifting his weight nervously, "At the alien structure."

Ben frowned, turned away, silent a moment as a strange, unreadable emotion passed over his features.

"I don't know what you mean."

"Where did you go? After we blew it up," Jimmy quietly pressed.

Another pause.

"I couldn't find you so I went back to camp. It's what you told me to do," Ben said.

"I told you to grab the others also," Jimmy replied.

Ben remained silent, folding his arms over his chest.

"You lost control out there, didn't you?" Jimmy asked. Ben dropped his chin, looking up at Jimmy plaintively and Jimmy groaned, "This is getting out of hand. We need to figure out…"

"Figure out what? We've already been over this. My options are tell Dr. Glass so she can do nothing, maybe possibly report to Weaver so he can tell everyone, panic the group and get me kicked out or worse, or we can do nothing and hope it goes away," Ben returned.

"And that no one gets killed," Jimmy mumbled.

"What?"

Jimmy cleared his throat and repeated louder, "Hope it goes away and that no one gets killed."

"You think I'm going to kill someone?" Ben demanded, tone cool.

"I didn't say that," Jimmy whispered.

"I didn't say that you said it, I asked if you thought it."

"Okay. I'm done talking," Jimmy muttered.

"Of course you are," Ben grumbled.

Jimmy sighed and took a step towards Ben, pausing when Ben tensed at the approach.

"I'm on your side, you know," Jimmy insisted. He closed his eyes a moment, took a deep breath to collect his thoughts, emotions, steady his voice, "I don't think that you would ever hurt anyone. Not if you could help it. Or that you would want to kill someone…but if you can't help it…Ben, you've done things when you lost control, you've hurt people…you've hurt me…I just think that it could be possible…"

"Where were _you_ after the explosion?" Ben cut in.

"What?" Jimmy wrinkled his brow.

"After the explosion, where were you?" Ben repeated tersely, again that unreadable emotion passing over his features.

"I…" Jimmy frowned, thought of the alien mass reaching out to him, the cold that washed over his body, the flicker of images, emotions and memories not his own, waking covered in blood with no apparent source, "I was too close to the blast…hit my head, I guess, blacked out."

Ben's expression relaxed and he darted his eyes away, "I thought…"

"Thought what?"

"Nothing. Never mind," Ben mumbled, clearing his throat, "What were you talking about with Roman earlier?"

"What?" Jimmy gaped, heart slamming hard against his chest, "Were you spying on me?"

"No. If I was spying on you, I would've listened in on the conversation instead of bothering to ask you about it," Ben shot back, narrowing his eyes on the other boy, "Why are you getting so defensive all of a sudden?"

"I'm not," Jimmy stammered, flustering, "You're…defensive…"

If Ben saw him talking with Roman, what else did Ben see?

"You're the one that wanted to talk," Ben said, "But you don't actually want to talk about anything."

"Fine," Jimmy replied, "Let's just make out then and…"

"No," Ben scoffed, "I want to know what happened between you and Roman."

"Now something happened between us? Jesus Christ, Ben, we just talked," Jimmy cried.

"And don't forget the part where you ended up in his arms. Again," Ben returned tartly.

"Of course," Jimmy muttered, shaking his head and growling, "Next time why don't you just come right out and fucking say what it is you really want to say? You accuse me of not talking; you're the one that's playing games."

"Alright, you're right," Ben mumbled, "You want me to come out and say it, well here it is. At first, it was that it was a mission, orders from Weaver to train them. Then it was just that he kept coming around you, and what the fuck are you supposed to do, right? And now..."

Jimmy dug his teeth hard into his inner cheek, tensed his shoulders.

"Now, I think you like it," Ben grit out.

"I felt sick suddenly, I almost fell over, puked my guts out in front of him, you think I liked that?" Jimmy challenged.

"I don't know. All I know is it's becoming a habit of yours to get weak in the knees around him," Ben grumbled.

"Twice, Ben, it's only happened twice," Jimmy shook his head, "You really want to know what I was talking about with him? We were arguing. Okay? We were arguing about _you_. He thinks I'm an idiot for trusting you. He knows that you lose control, and he knows some of the things you've done when you have. He knows what you've done to me, and he keeps trying to use it to convince me how stupid I am for trusting you. It'd be nice if for five fucking seconds you could be just as stupid as me, but you've never been stupid, have you, Ben? You've always known exactly what it was you were doing right from the start."

"What are you talking about now?" Ben whispered question.

"Nothing. I don't know," Jimmy whispered, rubbing his face furiously, smearing away tears he hadn't realized formed in his eyes, "I can't do this."

"Do what?" Ben murmured an odd tremor in his words.

Jimmy took a deep breath, dropping his arms to his sides and peering up at Ben distantly, "We should get back to camp. Weaver'll want to move again soon."

"No, wait, you're just going to walk off after saying all of that?" Ben demanded, reaching forward to grab Jimmy, stop him.

"That's exactly what I'm going to do," Jimmy said, tugging out of Ben's grasp, "We've been going nonstop for over a week now, we're tired and cranky, and after that battle…we should just stop talking before one of us says something we can't take back. When…if…we ever find a place safe enough to set up camp for a bit, we'll talk then."

"And until we do?" Ben prompted.

Jimmy shrugged, turned away, and stalked back towards camp. After a few heartbeats, he heard Ben fall in step behind him.

* * *

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AN: Yeah, I know, not the hot, steamy reunion everyone was hoping for. It's coming, eventually, I think. Anyhow, there's that. Next chapter should be...one people have been looking forward to.

Please let me know what you think!

Reviewers: SassySavanna190, I'm glad last chapter made you laugh so much. I love writing those characters, but I always worry the things they say might be too over the top...ah...yeah, I guess Matt is right in a way. It's a different kind of love. I love writing Matt and Jimmy interaction, yeah, I love writing Jimmy interaction with every character really, fills the void that the show left, I think. I swear, I don't think the show's writers knew what to do with him. PsycLinc, emotional truthy-ness, I like that. Yeah, Matt is pretty blunt. Hm...the horny after stressful situations thing, the social scientist in me wants to analyze it, so forgive me, but I can't help wondering if that something everyone experiences (I know after stressful situations, I haven't experienced it), if it has to do with particular situations (content), is it a particular person (because jobs in the emergency services tend to attract certain personality types), is there an evolutionary basis (I can think of a few...), and I'm boring you, so moving on. WhisperMaw, well, it's been awhile. Glad you think so, I'm never sure how he's going to come across to the readers. Dee, it was short, but a lovely point. A world ruled by Pope and Matt, now that would be the most adorable sitcom ever. Pope would try to do evil things and Matt would give him a puppy dog pout, and, begrudgingly, Pope would change his mind and make it look like he didn't ever care to begin with although deep down, everyone knows, he does care. Anyway, yes, translucent skin is a problem.

And there you have it. I've got to go hiking. See you all next Sunday.


	50. Chapter 50

A/N: Thanks for the reviews!

And a thank you to Greg for beta-ing.

* * *

L.

"…our best chance would be to make a stand and cut off the pack trailing us…"

Jimmy paused a couple yards from where Weaver sat in council with Dai, Anthony, Pope and a few other older fighters. After the community center, Anthony and Pope had somehow become the co-commanders of their very own specialized battle unit, the Berserkers, comprised of Tector, Lyle, Boon, and Crazy Lee. Jimmy didn't know how to feel about it, a squad of people who, quite possibly, each individually hated Ben more than the rest of the 2nd Mass combined; yet, they got the job done when it came to heading off Skitters and Mechs alike.

"We've plenty of cover in this city," Anthony pointed out, "A few well placed strikes and we might be able to stop running long enough to lick our wounds, maybe get a few hours sleep in."

"Meanwhile, we need to finally figure out where we're running to and get these civilians somewhere to take refuge," Weaver remarked, sending a glance Jimmy's direction but giving no other form of acknowledgement, "Anthony, Pope, take your Berserkers out and find a good place to set up ambush. Dai, get yourself together a scout group, we're running out of road, we need to pick a destination. Lincoln, Tammy, Maris, coordinate with the civilians, they need to be able to move and defend themselves without fighters for the next few days."

The officers broke to carry out the captain's commands, and Jimmy stepped forward when they were a respectful distance away.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Jimmy spoke up.

Weaver gaze Jimmy a short once-over, then indicated he follow. Together in silence they walked to the mess wagon and the civilian in charge of rations, a balding man named Paul, handed over a few pieces of beef jerky, a small cup of canned peas, and water at Weaver's request. Jimmy declined any food; he hadn't felt up to eating since he'd thrown up while Roman held him steady three days prior. He tried on occasion but little of it stayed down. He hadn't spoken to Ben in those three days, either, and he wondered how much of his lack of appetite could be attributed to that. Weaver led the way to a few chairs and they sat.

"We haven't had a chance to talk since the community center. How're you feeling, son?" Weaver started, nibbling at a bit of his jerky.

"Good, sir," Jimmy answered.

"Thought you were dead back there," Weaver commented.

"I understand that everyone did."

"You're getting real good at giving false scares like that, keep it up, you'll be like the boy who cried 'wolf', no one'll bat a lash at your funeral," Weaver joked, though he sounded somber, "I'd prefer if you took less risks, it's a dangerous world, but that's no reason to put yourself in greater danger."

"I'd prefer if the aliens went home and I didn't have to take risks, sir," Jimmy replied, "World doesn't get less dangerous if I don't put myself out there, at least when I do, if I die it'll have been for something, I'll have done something, instead of cowering on some invisible sideline."

Weaver smirked and Jimmy lowered his head, sheepish.

"Sorry, sir, I didn't mean to…"

"No, no, you're fine," Weaver interjected, "You're right. At least with a gun in your hand, you've a better chance of surviving. I can't help noticing, though, that you left your post in that community center. Back when I served we called that desertion. Not sure if the same rules quite apply to our situation…"

"I understand, sir. I know I need to be disciplined," Jimmy mumbled, frowning as he choked on the words, "I left knowing full well that I was disobeying orders and that my actions were in direct violation..."

"Your actions may have saved us all," Weaver said firmly, "But you're damn straight that you need to be disciplined. Going against orders is a serious offense. I can't have everyone thinking they should be running off playing hero in the battlefield. You know what a group of heroes gets you, son?"

"No, sir."

"Dead," Weaver grunted, "It's bad enough I got Ben Mason thinking he can take on the entire alien armada by himself, gets it from his father, the whole lot of those Mason boys, I'll die of stress before the Skitters get me because of that family, you wait and see, but I don't need one of my best fighters following in the Masons' lead. I give you an order, son, you follow it. You understand?"

"Yes, sir," Jimmy murmured, slumping slightly in his chair, head pounding hatefully with silent reprimand. He'd let Weaver down once again, he wondered how many more strikes it would take before Weaver threw him out.

Weaver shook a few peas into his mouth then took a sip of his water. He cleared his throat loudly, shifted slightly in his chair.

"You and Ben have gotten close lately," Weaver noted, as if it weren't something he and everyone else in the 2nd Mass didn't know and hadn't made remarks about constantly over the past month or so. Jimmy flushed slightly, wondering what rumors might have come across Weaver about how close he and Ben had really gotten lately.

"Yes, sir," Jimmy quietly confirmed.

"I need to ask you something, it might upset you, you might think there's a line I'm crossing, but I need you to put aside those feelings and give me an honest answer, because it's important I have a good handle on where my fighters' heads are at. Can you do that; can you be honest with me?"

Jimmy frowned, tentatively nodded.

"You going out there, leaving the center like you did, was that because of Ben?"

Jimmy clasped his hands together to keep them from trembling, eying the ground as he rewound every moment of that last battle in his mind, all the way back to that split-second when he stood on the road, stuck between the choice of forward to Ben or back to duty and honor.

"Yes, sir," he confessed, closing his eyes, and drawing his breath in shakily, "Sorry. I know it was wrong…"

"It's alright, son, you don't have to explain," Weaver said gently, placing a hand on Jimmy's shoulder, "Do you know why we call ourselves fighters…not soldiers, but fighters?"

"Because…we're not soldiers, sir."

"No, we're not. Soldiers have sworn an oath to stand together for abstract ideas like loyalty, honor, and those sorts of things. But we aren't fighting for loyalty or honor out here, we haven't sworn any oaths, what we are fighting for are our lives, and for the lives of those we love," Weaver explained, "We aren't a group of men and women that have chosen to forsake all else for our duty to some greater cause; we are mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers, husbands and wives, friends and lovers, that are scrambling to hold on to one another, these few precious things we have left in the world."

"I don't understand what you're trying to tell me, sir," Jimmy whispered. He expected more of a berating for the admission of his crime, maybe even threat to be permanently separated from Ben on the battlefield. Maybe it was still coming, but the preface was throwing him off a bit, it almost sounded as though Weaver weren't angry with him, almost as though he was agreeing with Jimmy's choice.

"After the warehouse, when we searched for you and our window of opportunity for finding you was quickly closing, and it looked like we would have to run for it before you could be found, Ben pitched a bit of a fit, I don't know if he mentioned it to you," Weaver said.

"No, sir. He didn't."

"Claimed he wouldn't leave until you were found, vowed to stay behind whether we left him there alone or not, he would not leave without you, and I knew that he fully intended to carry out that vow until the radio call came in that they were bringing you home," Weaver continued, and Jimmy flinched slightly, a strange pang in his chest at that new knowledge, "Now Anthony tells me you pitched a similar fit out near where that alien structure was, threatening to stay behind until you found Ben."

"I thought that…that you would leave without him if he wasn't with the rest of the 2nd Mass," Jimmy confessed.

"It was a fair assumption, circumstances being what they were, if Ben's whereabouts hadn't been known then you would've been right," Weaver conceded, "The only loyalties we have in this world are to ourselves and the people we care about. You don't fight for the 2nd Mass, son, you fight for him and the other people that are precious to you, whoever they may be. They're the ones you owe an oath of loyalty to, not me, not this group, but them. Now I have to discipline you for disobeying orders, it needs to be done or I'll have dissention in the ranks, you understand that."

"I do, sir."

"But I want you to also understand that even though I have to punish you for what you did, I need you to realize that the choice you made _was_ the right choice," Weaver said, "If not for the people we love then what are fighting for?"

"Revenge, sir?" Jimmy suggested.

Weaver laughed, "No one wins in a war for revenge, son."

"So…Ben and me, we can still work together?" Jimmy carefully asked.

"So far you two have proven a good team. Seems like it would be poor reasoning to bet against you now," Weaver answered, "Go on, then, get back to patrol. I'll think of a proper punishment for you when we find a place to set up camp and I get some sleep."

"Yes, sir. Thank you," Jimmy murmured, hurrying to his feet. He paused in his retreat, turning back and meekly commenting, "You were wrong about one thing, sir."

"Oh? And what was that?" Weaver wondered, straightening in his chair and looking at Jimmy with a glint of amusement in his eye.

"I am loyal to you," Jimmy answered.

Weaver snorted softly, smiling despite himself, he said in a light-hearted tone, "Go on. Get out of here. Get back to work."

Jimmy turned, biting back a smile, and hurrying away.

…

Weaver settled on a few ambushes to slow down and start picking off the enemy units off their tail, so handfuls of fighters were chosen to stake out certain points, open fire for as long as they could safely hold the ground, and then fall back to the next ambush point, like tagging in another team of fighters, then carry on back to the 2nd Mass.

Dai picked westward for travel, there was an abandoned aircraft hangar that one of the other fighters recalled from scouts before the community center attack. Whether it still stood, Weaver supposed they would find out when they got there.

Much to his chagrin, Ben was shafted into Hal's ambush group, alongside a couple green fighters, Valerie, Maggie, and, he wanted think thankfully, Jimmy but the two hadn't spoken since their brief argument. They were the last ambush along the route, and other fighters passing through gave optimistic status reports. They could gain the upper hand on the aliens that day, and possibly see opportunity to rest for a whole night.

For a few hours, their group sat cramped inside of a desolate building, the windows knocked out, barricade built up below, and them poised, ready to open fire at first sign of the enemy. Ben glared across the hall at Jimmy, the other boy hovered by Maggie as though a security blanket, keeping her expertly positioned between the two of them. Ben didn't know if it was infuriating or plain depressing that his so-called boyfriend seemed so desperate to not be near him.

"Wake up, Ben," Hal hissed, walking along the ranks and gently slapping Ben's shoulder in passing.

"Shut up," Ben growled under his breath, readjusting his attention out the window. He could hear the enemy approaching, five more minutes away at least, but decided he'd wait to let the others figure it out on their own. People who knew his abilities second-hand were freaked out about it enough without him indoctrinating the newbie fighters into his world of weird on their first fully-trained foray with the enemy. He shifted when Valerie slipped into a seat next to him and hesitantly returned her small smile.

"I heard what you did during the attacks," Valerie whispered.

"I didn't do anything that everyone else wasn't doing," Ben sheepishly returned.

"That's not true. No one else fought the aliens off with nothing but a knife," Valerie insisted, "No one else stood on the front lines with you during the final showdown. And no one else volunteered to blow up that alien building…"

"A lot of people volunteered to do that, actually," Ben amended, because he couldn't really argue with her other comments.

"You were brave," Valerie said.

"I guess," Ben muttered, darting a look Jimmy's direction, and feeling a strange sense of triumph when he caught the other boy rapidly yank his gaze away from Ben.

"Have you had anymore…anymore dreams?" Valerie asked. Ben furrowed his brow.

"Dreams?" he questioned, confused.

"Yeah, remember, the ones you told me about," Valerie pressed, "Of the strange alien world and the pretty blonde girl?"

Ben glanced at Jimmy again, his heart thumping panic in his chest. Jimmy seemed to have his attention out the window though, as did the other fighters.

"Get ready, people," Hal recommended, dropping to position beside Ben.

The status updates hadn't been wrong, there weren't many Skitters shuffling into view. They opened fire on Hal's command, and their bullets ripped easy through the enemy. When the final Skitter in view dropped, body in bloody shreds, they waited a few minutes to ensure the area clear. Hal gave the signal for the group to return to the 2nd Mass. Jimmy hesitated long enough to meet Ben's eyes; they'd be setting up camp for the night, clearly he was wondering if Ben saw this as that moment of rest Jimmy promised they'd take advantage of and carry on their earlier conversation.

Ben snorted softly and looked away, glaring out the window and glimpsing from the corner of his eye Jimmy turning to leave with Maggie. Ben clenched his jaw and tightened his clasp on his rifle, reflecting back on his and Jimmy's last conversation. They were supposed to be happy that the other survived the assault at the community center, supposed to be falling in one another's arms, covering each other in kisses, instead they'd argued and Jimmy fell into Roman's arms.

Okay, maybe it didn't happen exactly like that or even in that order, but it may as well have for all Ben cared.

_I can't do this…_

The finality in Jimmy's words, the defeated tone, shook through Ben once more. For a second, a split of a second, his heart had stopped. Jimmy could be difficult to understand at the best of times, his sentimental statements ran on a frequency Ben couldn't quite pick up, but it was those vague laments that carried a multiplicity of interpretations, each more harrowing than the last, which made Ben anxious for his own sanity. He didn't need much sleep, but what little he did need he lost pondering what exactly Jimmy had meant by those words.

It didn't help that Jimmy brought up Ben's momentary loses of control, thrown it out there like he was citing a handicap, made mention of how Ben had hurt him, as though Ben needed the reminder, and then, as if Ben's heart weren't already ripped from his chest and convulsing on the floor, Jimmy had to reveal that not only did Roman know about Ben's control issues and the pain Jimmy had suffered for it, but Roman had also used it to shake Jimmy's trust, and whether Jimmy would admit it or not, his trust had been shaken.

"Come on, Ben, let's go," Hal instructed, giving Ben's shoulder a nudge.

But Ben hesitated, lifted his gun to his shoulder as a whisper of feet scurried in the shadows. Adrenaline kicked hard through Ben's veins, it had been for the past several seconds, minutes, hours even, lava molten in his blood. He needed the kill, he practically salivated for it.

"What is it?" Hal questioned.

Ben frowned, shook his head, deftly stepped out of the window, and barely acknowledging how he did it, slipped to the ground three stories down. He stalked along the street, body moving automatically as his thoughts ran rampant, far and away.

Where the fuck did Jimmy even get off pushing Ben away? Telling Ben when they could talk, make out, what they could do and when they could do it, as though he were the authority in their relationship? Chastising Ben about the lapses in memory, suggesting that it was getting out of hand as though he knew anything about it, as if he had any fucking clue how much control Ben did or did not have at any given moment, and then having the audacity to insinuate that Ben might kill someone.

The fucking hypocrite.

After all, between them, wasn't Jimmy the seasoned killer? Didn't he murder a little girl, his flesh and blood, who he was meant to protect and a man he'd surprised and gunned down? How was that any different, how did that make Jimmy any better, than if Ben, in a second beyond his control, put his hands around Jimmy's own soft, pale neck and simply squeezed until he crushed the windpipe in his fingers like a brittle autumn leaf?

A Skitter stepped out from between two buildings, screeching battle cry and Ben reacted, firing off a couple rounds, until the creature collapsed to the ground, and from behind it, his father's widened eyes reflected Ben's own stun, blood gushing out from where a bullet struck.

In that moment, Ben didn't know what horrified him more, the realization that he'd shot his own father or his own dark swirl of thoughts.

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A/N: Yay, Tom is back! Let me know what you guys think please!

I'm running late...so late...apologies for short replies...

Reviewers: Dee, wow, you really had a lot to say about the chapter. Your insights were amazing, also. You're right that Jimmy has a lot to lose when it comes to Roman. I'm sorry you dislike him so, though I guess it's a good thing the characters are stirring such emotion in you. As for Jimmy, yes, he does need to look at himself and come to terms with some things, though I think his reluctance when it comes to admitting possible attraction to Roman might also have a bit to do with, well, Roman is an obnoxious asshole that's constantly bashing someone Jimmy cares deeply for. And yes, Ben is often times the smarter of the two, but he's more emotionally stable, so he gets to be that person. There will be more sex eventually, I know it doesn't feel like it, but I promise you people there will be! NOxONE, yeah...I'm right there with you. I love writing argument scenes. Can you tell? Stories thrive on conflict, not happy fun time. Sassysavanna190, it does always boil down to trust. Always, always. LOL, I like your line on Roman, one minuet a doush and the next flirting, yup, he really doesn't know what he wants when it comes to Jimmy. You're right, he does have a point sometimes when it comes to Ben. As for your q: I don't know. I may be splitting this story into two, if I do that, this story will end in roughly ten to twenty chapters, on a cliffhanger because I'm evil, then it will pick up in a third story, and if I get far enough, there may be another story that follows this one, meaning the third story will end on a cliffhanger. Otherwise, this story will end up being 100+ chapters long. Facepalmer123, welcome back! Skipped chapters? Really...hm...no, that's not really horrible of you to want that, I kind of thought about doing it early in the story...them breaking up, I mean, not necessarily Jimmy falling apart after and Ben coming to save the day. You'll see how things actually go if you keep reading. Skip less though, you miss important things.

Frick, I'm running really late. See you guys next Sunday!


	51. Chapter 51

AN: Wow, the fandom is picking up again, huh? Thank you for the reviews you guys. You're all so awesome.

And thank you to Greg for beta-ing. He's going through rough stuff lately, so send him warm, fuzzy thoughts. Or just read, I don't know.

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As soon as word reached Jimmy, Professor Mason returned to the 2nd Mass only to be gunned down by his son, Jimmy sprinted to the medic van, bursting round its corner and staggering to a halt. His eyes found Ben first, sitting on a bench outside the van, slumped over his knees and cradling his head in his hands. Hal leaned against the van, grave features carved as though from stone, distantly watching Matt play a game of chess alone on the bench next to Ben. Jimmy caught his breath and approached Hal first.

"How is he?" Jimmy carefully questioned, heart drumming painfully in his ears.

"Dr. Glass is removing the bullet now," Hal answered. Jimmy folded his arms over his stomach and fixed his gaze on Ben.

"How is he?" Jimmy reiterated, emphasizing his meaning with his pointed stare. Hal cleared his throat, straightening.

"Go talk to him," he recommended, "I've tried, but he won't…nothing I say means anything to him."

Jimmy faltered, dropped his eyes to the ground, as a heavy weight dropped into his stomach and threatened to drag him hopeless to his knees.

"I don't think he'll want to talk to me," Jimmy admitted, explaining sullenly, "We had a fight."

"Somehow I don't think that'll be the topic of your conversation," Hal muttered, shoving Jimmy towards Ben, and then starting away, calling over his shoulder, "Matt, let's take a walk."

Matt shot Jimmy a blank look, then scrambled to his feet and rushed after Hal. Jimmy hesitated a few heartbeats, attempting to steady himself as he watched Ben sitting unmoved on the bench. Sure, go talk to Ben, Jimmy thought sardonically, go cheer the guy up for possibly killing his own father a few days after accusing him of being a killer in waiting. Jimmy drew in a deep breath, and a couple shaky steps towards Ben, tremble increasing the closer he got, until he stood directly in front of Ben and felt certain he'd collapse. He realized he was holding his breath, let it out, and carefully slipped into the seat beside Ben.

They sat side-by-side in silence for several tens of seconds, Jimmy scouring his mind for something to say; some word of encouragement or condolence. Ben slumped a bit more in his seat, but otherwise remained frozen in his devastated pose.

"They're talking about me, around camp," Ben spoke up first; his voice had a strange croak to it from so long without use.

Jimmy didn't reply. He sat rigid, torn between wanting to reach out and touch Ben and the fear that Ben would shove him none too kindly away.

"I can hear them all now," Ben whispered, "I tried to kill my own father. How can I be trusted after that? And they're right. If he dies…it'll be because of me. It'll be my fault."

"It's good, though," Jimmy murmured, "That you shot him."

"What?" Ben stammered, finally turning his head to stare at Jimmy, his eyes pinched into narrow slits, and features screwed with heartache.

"Well, you know," Jimmy mumbled, folding his hands together to stop their trembling, "Because you're such a shit shot."

"This is your pep talk? What the fuck is wrong with you?" Ben cried

"No, I mean, think about it," Jimmy persisted, his voice growing in confidence as he continued to clarify, "I mean, if someone like…say, me for instance, was the one that shot him, man, he'd have no fucking chance right now. It would've been a clean head shot, he'd of been dead instantly. But because it was you that shot him, he has a good chance of surviving. Fuck, I've seen the way you shoot; it'll be a miracle if he dies. So if you think about it, it's good that you shot him."

Ben gaped at Jimmy for what seemed an uncomfortably long time, and Jimmy fought the urge to squirm under that scrutinizing stare, forcing all his energy into maintaining a light-hearted disposition. Then suddenly Ben smirked, snickering slightly under his breath, and shaking his head.

"Instead of you?" Ben prompted.

"Yeah, instead of me," Jimmy confirmed.

Ben sighed, his expression relaxing into one of melancholy, whispering in earnest, "Thanks."

"Yeah, no problem," Jimmy replied softly, and then grinned, "I can _not_ shoot your dad anytime."

Ben smiled, clutching his head in his hands again. Jimmy leaned back, watching Ben wearily. Meekly, Jimmy offered his hand, resting it with the palm up against Ben's thigh, and Ben considered it briefly, before sliding his own palm over it and twining their fingers.

"Your dad's alive," Jimmy said, "That's something, right?"

"I guess," Ben murmured, and quietly confessed, "People are talking about him too."

"Why are you listening to them?" Jimmy groaned, "I thought we talked about this, they don't matter…"

"They have a point though," Ben argued, tilting his head slightly so that he could see Jimmy, tightening his grasp on the other boy's hand, "My father climbed onboard an alien space craft. He never should've been able to walk back off, but he did. How did he manage that and what did the aliens want with him in the first place? There has to be a reason he's back, a reason that's entirely their making…"

Jimmy said nothing, giving Ben's hand a gentle squeeze. He couldn't say the thought wasn't crossing his mind. Ben was harnessed, and now his father walked away from certain death at the aliens' claws? It was just too great a coincidence.

The door to the medic van opened and Lourdes stuck her head out, her hair and clothes disheveled. Jimmy instantly disentangled his hand from Ben's and though Ben didn't react to the action, Jimmy felt a strange and sudden disgust in himself. Lourdes met Ben's eyes, and then glanced to Hal and Matt several yards away. They approached, eyes locked on the weary young woman.

"He's awake right now, if you want to see him," she announced.

The Mason brothers headed for the van entry, and Jimmy watched a second or two, a ping of envy aching in his chest as one-by-one the brothers ascended the ladder. There'd never been a chance for Jimmy's parents. His mother toasted during the first invasion while lounging poolside with her martini. He could still smell the singed flesh, still see her innards spilled across the floor. And his father, there was a kind of poetic justice that the man died in his overpriced luxury car on the way to work. It was almost a pity he didn't die at work with his co-workers, in the only place, with the only people he really cared about.

It was nice that the Mason brothers had their family together again, though maybe only a select few people like Jimmy truly knew how nice it really was.

Jimmy took a deep breath, a few steps back, then turned away and started across camp. He didn't notice Ben's hesitance on the steps, didn't see when the other boy turned back to call for him, only to falter and linger on the steps briefly, watching Jimmy's retreating form with a distant forlorn in his eyes.

…

By awake, Lourdes had meant eyes open but severely drugged. Tom didn't have much to say to his sons, but he clasped Hal's hand, and touched Ben's shoulder, and smiled crookedly at Matt, before slipping into a deep slumber. He looked a wreck, his clothes tattered, his body battered – the bullet wound looked to be the least of his concerns next to the excessive bruising and lacerations. Tortured came to mind, and Ben winced, reminded of the "how" that brought his father back to camp. Had he talked and, if so, about what?

When it was clear Tom wouldn't be waking again anytime soon, the two older Masons left Matt to sit vigil. Hal went to report in to Weaver, and Ben sought out Jimmy for the promised talk three days earlier. He found Jimmy sitting beside Maggie in a circle of some older fighters, and Ben felt a strange relief spread though him that at least Jimmy wasn't with the formerly harnessed teens.

Wasn't with Roman.

Ben slipped round the group, gently brushing Jimmy's shoulder in passing, then paused, glancing back and meeting the other boy's quizzical look. Then Ben started across camp, another strange relief spreading through him when he heard Jimmy fall in step behind him. As if there was some doubt he would follow.

2nd Mass had set up camp in a corporate district of some unknown city, all of the cities blurred together now and their names didn't matter much anymore, they were part of the world before, a world that no longer existed no matter how people tried to cling to its remnants. There were plenty of buildings around to break into and find privacy, and despite the danger of secluding themselves from the larger group in a possibly alien infested area where the likelihood a quick get up and run might be in order, Ben and Jimmy picked out an old office building for their meet.

"How's your dad?" Jimmy questioned as soon as they were inside. Eerily, the desks, chairs, papers, office equipment were all in place as they may have been the day of the invasion. There was even a coffee cup still partially filled with a bit of mildew coated coffee, a half-rotted donut on a yellowing napkin beside it, as if waiting for some nameless office worker to come back and finish eating.

"Dr. Glass says the bullet missed any vital organs," Ben answered, casually pacing around the room, trailing his eyes over the debris. From the paperwork, it looked to have once been an insurance company, "He'll be okay with a bit of rest."

"See, I told you. You're a shit shot," Jimmy teased, and Ben smirked.

Then Jimmy suddenly dropped his gaze, leaning back against one of the desks.

"Maybe your dad fought his way out," Jimmy suggested uneasily, "Maybe he bided his time then saw opportunity, seized it-"

"Stop," Ben growled, and Jimmy furrowed his brow, peeking up.

"What?"

"For the past several months everyone else bounced around ideas, theories, whatever, about my dad, but you never did. If you thought anything about it, you never said so, and I always felt like it was because you weren't judging. You weren't suspecting anything, you wanted to wait for the truth. Out of everyone, you were the only one that cared about the truth. Whether you really felt that way or not didn't matter, because it felt like you did, and I relied on that, you have no idea how I needed it then," Ben explained heatedly, "Now that he's back, everyone is still bouncing around those ideas, and I still need you to be the one who cares about the truth even if you don't, because I need you to be that person. Even if you're trying to pretty up the theories, make them sound better, it still hurts. It hurts even more because I know you're doing it for my benefit, not because you actually believe it, which makes me think you believe something else, something terrible, so just stop. Please stop."

"Okay," Jimmy whispered, taking a few small steps towards Ben, "I'm sorry. You're right. We'll wait for the truth."

"Thank you," Ben mumbled and they were silent a few moments, contemplating and digesting, and then Jimmy closed the distance between them and placed his mouth against Ben's own, waiting anxiously until Ben responded, deepening the kiss, slipped his hand up around Jimmy's neck, the other placed on Jimmy's waist, dragging Jimmy closer. Their lips parted and Ben's tongue swept inside, delicately tasting every available inch of Jimmy's inner mouth, until Jimmy's fingernails bit like claws into Ben's sides, and a low, satisfied groan erupted from far within him and they parted slightly, gasping for air.

Ben pushed Jimmy's hair away from his ear then claimed the lobe with his teeth and tongue, nibbling the flesh gently, and Jimmy fumbled with the hem of Ben's shirt, fingertips tickling the vulnerable flesh of his belly, sending tiny, sensuous shivers racing his spine.

"How are you feeling?" Ben asked, voice brusque and heated.

"Hm…?" Jimmy pulled back a bit to give Ben a confused look.

"You threw up the other day," Ben reminded Jimmy, "I just wondered if you were feeling better."

"Oh," Jimmy realized, working on kissing every inch of Ben's exposed flesh, murmuring distantly, "Yeah. No. I'm fine. Just…too much excitement, I guess. It was nothing."

"Really?" Ben droned unimpressed but Jimmy pressed an insistent kiss to Ben's mouth, and the subject was instantly dropped in favor of knocking everything off one of the desks to make a place for Jimmy to sit and Ben to hover over him.

Ben ran his hands up along Jimmy's thighs, causing an involuntary whimper to quake in the back of Jimmy's throat, then Ben's fingers slid up under the hem of Jimmy's shirt, peeling away the fabric, slightly sticky with sweat, and he tossed it away across the room as he dropped kisses along Jimmy's chest. Jimmy furled his hand in Ben's hair while his other hand slid down Ben's shirt and traced the spikes along his spine. Ben's body was warm, almost burning up under Jimmy's palm, and Jimmy felt a rush of desperate need to wrap himself as much as possible in that warmth. He pushed Ben back a bit, starting to lift away Ben's own shirt, and Ben quickly caught on, ripping away the garment and dropping it to the ground, their mouths crashing eagerly together again.

Through a hot chaos of kisses and eager hands seeking bare flesh to touch, taste, tease, they maneuvered their way out of their other garments, their armaments, and somehow ended up on the floor. Jimmy lay on his back, Ben atop him, their naked bodies melded and writhing together in an overwhelmingly erotic rush of sensation. Jimmy gasped for air as Ben dotted kisses along his jawline, neck, and collarbone, nipped the already raw flesh playfully then soothed the area with a flick of his tongue. Jimmy's hand slipped down to encircle Ben's erection, causing the other boy to gasp in pleasant surprise, then Ben made noises of increasing approval as Jimmy expertly stroked the sensitive skin, until Ben groaned ecstatic, shivering with orgasm. He kissed Jimmy hard, daring fingers seeking new places to explore and grasp, and hovering rather suggestively around Jimmy's buttocks.

"…no," Jimmy murmured sheepishly, swallowing air in large gulps, pushing Ben back slightly to meet his eyes, glazed and filled with heat. Jimmy was flushed from head to toe, and though he was making an attempt to deny Ben access to certain alleged pleasure points on his body, Ben didn't look entirely convinced.

"Wow. If you are about to try convincing me that sexual experimentation is a bad idea right now, you are doing a horrible job turning me off," Ben commented, and Jimmy darted a sheepish look up at him.

"I don't know if…"

"I don't believe you. You're backing out after you agreed…and you were ready to do it before," Ben complained, though he sounded breathless.

"Yeah, but that was before and this is now," Jimmy replied, his voice soft and quaking, childish almost in its stubborn tone.

"Shit…baby…" Ben groaned, burying himself against Jimmy's sweat drenched collar, and pathetically whimpering, "I just really want to touch you, it won't be bad, I promise…please let me touch you…"

"Ben, we talked about the pet names," Jimmy grumbled, and Ben propped himself up again, eying Jimmy warily.

"I thought we agreed we liked the pet names."

"No, _you_ agreed we liked the pet names and I agreed to shoot you if you used them."

"Do I need to get you alcohol? Is that what we're missing here? Should I steal a bottle of vodka from our severely depleted supplies so that I can finally know what you feel like from another angle…?" Ben wondered.

"Can you shut up and just start kissing me again?" Jimmy returned, pulling himself up slightly to capture Ben's mouth with his own, dragging Ben down by the shoulders.

Their mouths locked once more, and Ben begrudgingly took Jimmy's own heated erection and purposely began a steady rhythm. He felt Jimmy go lax, absently nibbling at Ben's ear several moments, before finally lolling his head back, eyes closing, as he made small, sensual noises. Ben studied the other boy as he worked, those lips bruised red, parted slightly as he panted in time to each stroke of Ben's hand, the blistered stain of heat across his pale, ivory face, dark hair tumbling silken and loose across his eyes and tangled in Ben's fingers, hand cradling the back of Jimmy's head.

Ben felt inexplicably captivated by the image, afraid that something as simple as a touch or a soft word, whisper, could shatter that frail moment. It wasn't fair, sometimes Jimmy could take Ben's breath away, leave him vulnerable and speechless, and he felt certain he'd never be able to fully express it, or even hope to stir in Jimmy a fraction of what Jimmy stirred in Ben. Jimmy climaxed, features contorting with the rushing feelings, his arms wrapping up around Ben's shoulders, his back arched and he buried his face into Ben's shoulder, trying to muffle the groan of pleasure rumbling in his chest. For several minutes after they lay tangled around one another, Ben's hand still wrapped around Jimmy's cock, though his fingers were loose and relaxed, his other hand lazily tracing the contour of Jimmy's jaw, neck, chest, down across his hip bone.

Then Ben lifted himself up, carefully maneuvered out of Jimmy's arms and legs and stood, using a piece of paper off one of the desks to wipe his hand clean. Jimmy sat up and reached for his pants. There was a long and strange silence that fell over them. Jimmy started to pull on his clothes and Ben studied the items on a desk. It had a red mug with the words "Ask me on Tuesday" painted on it in white lettering, a pen with a cheap plastic flower on top, a plaque that read "July Employee of the Month" with a picture of a large haired woman.

"You're dad," Jimmy started, voice soft and faraway.

"Yeah," Ben reluctantly agreed, "I guess we should talk about that…"

"It's okay," Jimmy interjected, leaning back on his palms and tilting his head to one side, forcing a smile, "We don't have to have a long talk about it or anything, hash out emotions or whys, all the stupid shit, and whatever. I'm okay with it."

Slowly, Ben turned around to look at Jimmy, eyebrow perked in startle.

"Okay with…what?"

"This ending," Jimmy whispered, shrugging, "Kind of sucks, but whatever. I mean, I knew it wasn't going to last forever…I'm kind of surprised it lasted as long as it did…"

"Whoa, wait, what?" Ben stammered, heart stopping stone cold dead, "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"I just…I know with your dad back that we kind of have to stop," Jimmy said quietly, "It was fun, when we weren't fighting I guess. This was nice, I wanted to be together one last time, but I think that it would be good to just end it completely after we leave here, so that..."

"What? Shit, slow down, stop," Ben growled, frustration growing, "You want to break up? Why?"

"No, I don't _want_ to break up, I just know that…"

"But just so we're clear, you don't _want_ to break up,"

"No, fuck, Ben, why would I want that?" Jimmy returned, "But with your dad back…and it's not like we can't still hang out, right? We were friends before. We can still hang out. Can't we?"

"Stop that. Goddamn it, Jimmy, don't do that to me! We're not breaking up. The only way we'd ever break up is if one or both of us doesn't want to be with the other anymore. Neither of us wants to break up, so forget it, it's not happening, and what the hell do you mean you're surprised we've lasted this long?"

"But what about your dad?" Jimmy asked.

"What about my dad?" Ben demanded.

"You said we had to talk about your dad, I assumed…"

"That this was a long good-bye? One last fondle for posterity? Shit, I just wanted to talk about when we should tell him about us," Ben explained, agitated and exasperated, "Should we do it after he wakes up or wait until we're sure he isn't under some kind of alien mind control?"

"You want to tell him?" Jimmy cried, incredulous.

"Yes. Of course I do."

"No," Jimmy groaned, burying his face in his knees, "Why the fuck would you want to tell him?"

"Why would I not?" Ben retorted, scoffing, "People around camp do know about us, babe, that cat's getting out of the bag one way or another. It should be from us."

"Not if we drown the damn thing," Jimmy muttered.

"Are we back to breaking up again?"

"No," Jimmy said, pulling himself to his feet and pacing a few times, sighing as he rambled, "I don't know. Can we just wait a while? Please? Give me time to think about it…"

"Why are you so stressed about this anyway? He's my dad, I'm the one that should be freaking out right now," Ben said, missing Jimmy's subconscious flinch at the unintentionally harsh words.

"I don't know," Jimmy admitted, "For some reason, there's something incredibly scary about confessing to one of the few people in camp whose opinion really means anything to me that I've been screwing around with his son."

"Okay. Fine. We'll wait, for _a short while_," Ben relented,

"Thank you," Jimmy mumbled. The two continued to dress.

"What has Roman told you about the signal?" Ben asked when he couldn't take the restless silence anymore.

Jimmy perked a brow, but casually answered, "Not much," then dropped his voice, "That it started about when you seemed to start acting strange."

Ben said nothing.

"Am I right? That the times match up?" Jimmy pressed.

"Maybe," Ben whispered, "I'm not sure but they seem connected."

"Jesus Christ, Ben," Jimmy muttered.

"It's not as bad as it sounds!"

"You start picking up an alien signal right around when you start losing chunks of time, how can that not be as bad as it sounds?" Jimmy demanded.

"Okay, maybe it is as bad as it sounds, but what am I supposed to do? I don't know what it means," Ben replied.

"What would you even tell him?" Jimmy mused, and the swap of subject jerked Ben around so hard he was sure he'd have whiplash.

"Tell who what?"

"Your dad. About us," Jimmy answered as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"I'm sorry, because I thought we were done talking about that."

"We're not. Why would we be done with it if you still want to tell him?"

"I already agreed to wait," Ben said carefully, smiling despite himself, "We can't wait forever though, like I said, he's going to find out."

"Why? And why do so many people have to know in the first place?" Jimmy mumbled, rubbing at his face furiously.

"I told you, babe, not that many people know," Ben soothed.

"Enough people know, though, and more and more people know every day. It's just getting to be too much…"

"What do you mean by that?" Ben asked with a jolt in his heart.

"Nothing," Jimmy sighed, "I don't know. It's just that…that the more people who know, the more I feel like there's all these expectations…"

"What expectations?" Ben demanded, "Why do you keep doing that? You're the one who likes to say that other people don't matter, but you keep going back to other people: my dad, my brothers, the 2nd Mass."

"They don't," Jimmy replied, "Except when they do."

"That doesn't even make sense," Ben cried.

"The whole time you were missing out there, when I didn't know where you were, I could just feel everyone looking at me, like they were waiting for something, or like they knew something I didn't," Jimmy rambled, pacing as he spoke, nervously rubbing at his forearm, "Half the time I don't know what I'm supposed to do, and the other half, I think I know, and it always turns out that I'm wrong."

"I can't keep up with you," Ben groaned, leaning back against the desk and shaking his head exasperated at the other boy, "You know, and I mean this in the nicest way possible, babe, you're psychotic."

"Have you even thought about what you're going to tell him?" Jimmy questioned.

"Are we talking about my dad again?" Ben wondered, blind-sided by the seemingly rapid subject changes.

"Of course we're talking about your dad. Who the fuck else would we be talking about?" Jimmy ranted and Ben innocently shook his head, "What are you going to tell him? How are you going to begin to explain…this…us? Have you even thought about it?"

"I don't know. I was kind of thinking I'd go with the…uh…the truth."

"But what exactly is the fucking truth?" Jimmy demanded, "I mean, what are you going to say? 'Hey, so dad, while you were away me and Jimmy have started slipping away from camp to jerk each other off because, well hell, a person gets tired after a while doing it by himself.'"

"I figured I could tell him I'm in love with you."

"Because Jesus Christ, Ben, what the fuck else is there to say?" Jimmy faltered, and slowly turned to eye Ben askance, features washed clean and jaw slightly slackened, asking in a stammered whisper, "What did you just say?"

Ben took a deep breath, straightened, cleared his throat, and met Jimmy's eyes with the most sincere expression he could manage despite his limbs feeling heavy, his breath clinging to his lungs, and a pressure in his chest like the weight of the world resting atop him.

"I'm in love with you, Jimmy," he repeated, bracing himself for the inevitable impact.

Seconds ticked by in a painfully drawn out silence, Jimmy staring blank-faced. Ben's heart clenched as though a fist was squeezing the blood from it, the world spiraling round him, he couldn't force his breath in, he couldn't push it out. Everything seemed frozen in a cold, gray haze. Fighting those words had seemed the hard part, but now that they were out there, now that they hovered in the space between both boys, it was waiting for that response, the acceptance, rejection, whatever, that felt more crushing than the struggle to keep those words in had ever been.

And then silently, Jimmy turned around and swiftly left the room, the doors slamming shut on his retreat echoing like the cold, cruel, sluice of his response.

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AN: Yay, so everyone is excited that Tom is back. Can't wait to see how people feel about this chapter...

Let me know what you guys think, please!

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Reviewers: NoXOne, yeah, I only really take the essentials of the canon scenes, so things that are coming up will look awfully familiar but how they play out exactly will change drastically. I've been looking forward to writing in some stuff from season 2 with the perspective of Jimmy and Ben in a relationship. I'll be sad to see this story come to an end too. I don't know what I'll do with myself. Write something else, probably. IcicleLilly, the moment you've been waiting fifty chapter for finally arrived. I swear, I did not intend for it to take this long for Tom to appear in the story. It was actually only supposed to take like twenty chapters, but twenty chapters in my head always turns into fifty on paper. Damn brain. SassySavanna190, I'm glad you liked last chapter. Yeah, I can see what you mean about it feeling a bit different. I love writing Jimmy/Weaver bonding scenes, almost as much as Jimmy/Maggie scenes, and a little less than Ben/Jimmy super angst scenes. JDMlvr1, welcome back. Yup, I sort of assumed that's what it was. I'm a fanfic reader/writer too, so I know the phases of fandom-craving. You should see the list of fandoms I've dabbled in and stories I've left woefully unfinished. I have one under another penname that I need to finish before people explode over there, but I lost the "feels" for it, I guess. Oh well. I am super glad to see you back though, and hope the rest of this story does not disappoint.

See you guys Sunday!


	52. Chapter 52

AN: Sorry it took so long to post. It's father's day, so...yes...

Thanks for the reviews you guys!

And I haven't heard from Greg all week, I'm a little worried...

* * *

LII.

Since ambushing and annihilating the enemy units tailing them, the 2nd Mass had been able to move at an easier pace. They weren't safe yet, as some of the senior fighters had taken to saying – which prompted Ben to muse whenever would they be safe – but at least they had a chance to breath. Discussion around camp centered on where they would go to seek refuge, though many were of Ben's mindset that refuge didn't exist so why bother, and others whispered about Tom Mason's miraculous return.

But thankfully, or not so much, Ben now had other things to occupy his mind. After a week and three days of nothing, he had Jimmy for one blissful yet woefully short hour, give or take, and then he opened his mouth, let those three forbidden words tumble out, and he was back to nothing. He couldn't get within visual range without Jimmy bolting. He was starting to think a simple rejection would've been easier. A nice, "Thank you but I don't feel the same", and then they could've swept it aside as though it had never happened, and just continued on from where they were.

Right, who was Ben kidding? If past experience had taught him nothing else, there was no moving past those kinds of confessions. At least this time, he'd kind of thought, hoped, _believed_ that things would be different. He didn't expect Jimmy to say it back, of course not, that would be ridiculous, far outside of the other boy's character.

Okay, _maybe_ part of Ben had imagined a sliver of possibility that Jimmy might say it in return, and yes, he'd even let himself foolishly fantasize that they'd exchange those words in a tender moment, orchestral music swelling in the background of his mind, and then they'd make passionate love all night.

Daydreams aside, at the very least, Ben had expected Jimmy to express some sentiment of acceptance, maybe some sign that he was happy Ben had said it. Anything but that blank stare and then bitter nothing.

Maybe, Ben decided, he ought to resign himself to the possibility no one would ever want his love or love him in return.

Ben sighed, crossing camp towards where he'd left Matt cleaning a few of his rifles, watching warily as Jimmy ducked hastily out of sight into one of the artillery trucks. Even from the distance Ben could see a bit of color tinged those pale cheeks.

Oh hell, Ben didn't care if Jimmy wanted his love or loved him back, all he needed to be happy for the rest of his life was for Jimmy to stop running from him.

"I'm almost finished putting this one back together. I did it all by myself, too," Matt declared proudly and Ben smiled down at the younger boy, absently ruffling his hair.

"Dr. Glass come by with any info on dad?"

"No," Matt mumbled, setting the completed rifle aside and tilting his head back to peer up at his older brother, "Hal talked to her last night. I guess she said dad is still sleeping from all the medicine she had to give him."

"Right," Ben said, picking his rifle up and inspecting it, he asked, "You want to go do something?"

"Really?" Matt replied, skeptical, picking at pieces of lint on his pant leg, "Shouldn't you be hanging out with Jimmy?"

"Are you saying you don't want to hang out with me?" Ben scoffed, mock hurt.

"Did you and Jimmy get in a fight?" Matt asked.

Ben rolled his eyes, "No…"

"Then…why does he disappear every time you come around?"

"He's busy with other things, Matt. He's got responsibilities around camp, you know, he can't spend all his time with me," Ben insisted.

"Okay. So…you're not fighting…you just did something really stupid and now he's mad at you?" Matt determined.

"I'm going to go test out these guns, make sure you assembled them correctly, if you shut up about Jimmy and want to come with me then maybe I'll let you fire off a few rounds," Ben hissed.

"Really?" Matt's eyes widened, a grin spreading across his face, "But Hal said…"

"Hal's not here, is he?" Ben replied cheekily, smirking, "Come on, Matt, I think it's time you learned to shoot a gun."

"Hal is going to be so mad," Matt exclaimed, hopping on his feet, and scrambling after Ben.

They set up a few yards away from camp, lining up tin cans along a cement wall. Ben gave Matt a few instructions, then stood back and watched attentively as his younger brother attempted to knock one of the cans down. Ben expected Matt to flinch, at least with the first shots, but the younger boy stood stoically and even managed to graze one of the tins.

"That's really good," Ben praised, coming over to ruffle Matt's hair, "We'll make a sniper out of you, yet."

"You think I can be a sniper?" Matt's face lit with the compliment.

"Maybe. One day," Ben answered delicately.

"Then I could go out on the battlefield with you and Hal and dad…maybe after we get to the new location," Matt determined, lining up his sight again and firing off a few more rounds without a single hit.

"Getting a little ahead of ourselves, aren't we?" Ben chuckled, readjusting Matt's position, "Focus on knocking a can down first, then maybe we'll talk about when you can dream of the battlefield."

With Ben's hands on his shoulders, guiding his aim, Matt managed to knock a couple tins down. He grinned, giving a whoop of excitement as though he'd managed all his own. Ben pat Matt's head, smiling despite himself. Admittedly, he did miss spending time with his younger brother and it was nice to be away from camp. It felt vaguely like old times.

"Hey, Ben," Hal's voice boomed with pent-up agitation from behind the two youngest Mason brothers.

Ben scowled, yup, like old times. He turned around to face his advancing older brother.

"What the hell is he doing with a gun?" Hal demanded jerking his head Matt's direction. Matt lowered the rifle, fidgeting from foot to foot nervously as he eyed his older brothers.

Ben shrugged and replied, "I figured it was finally time to teach him."

"That wasn't your call to make," Hal growled, "I said that…"

"But it was yours?" Ben interjected sharply, folding his arms across his chest, "He wanted to learn and not teaching him isn't somehow going to miraculously keep him out of the Skitters reach."

"But putting him on the frontline is going to keep him safe?" Hal challenged.

"No. But if the fighters around him fall, I'd rather he know what to do with the gun he pulls off one of them than sit in the corner cowering and waiting for the Skitters to drag him off," Ben replied.

"That's not going to happen."

"Why? Because you say so, and your word is suddenly universal law? You're not dad, Hal, you never were, and now that he's back you can stop acting like it. You don't get to make decisions about what's best for me and Matt…"

"Dad didn't want him to learn and just because I happen to agree doesn't mean I'm not enforcing his wishes," Hal cut in petulantly, "And he won't get taken because I won't let it happen."

"It's already happened, Hal," Ben spat, pushing past the older boy and stalking away. He needed to put distance between himself and his brother, he could feel a white heat prickling across his vision and threatening to rip Hal's throat away.

"You little creep," Hal cried, reaching out to grab hold of Ben's arm and halt his retreat, "How the hell are you going to throw that in my face after everything…"

Hal fell to his knees, Ben's hand at his neck driving him to the ground. Matt stood off to the side, backing away a few steps, eyes wide and trembling, a small startled gasp escaped his lips. Maybe it was that soft sound or maybe it was Hal's muscles suddenly lax beneath Ben's grip that shocked Ben back to reality. He stumbled hard into the moment, yet still couldn't loosen his fingers wrapped round his brother's throat.

"You mean, after everything _I_ went through? I think I know better than anyone what's best for Matt. I'd rather he died in battle than ever be taken by the Skitters and go through the same things I did," Ben hissed, releasing Hal with a hard shove back and striding purposefully away. He could hear Hal coughing and gulping down air and a terrible smile flitted momentarily across his lip, his whole life he'd been the weaker brother, before he remembered himself and a sick dark feeling settled in his gut.

_This is getting out of hand…_

Ben knew it was getting out of hand long before Jimmy ever pointed it out, and it was getting dangerously evident that he could and would kill someone if something wasn't done soon. Losing control was one thing, but now he was losing himself. An ache in his heart told him he needed Jimmy right then, but the other boy wouldn't come near him, and somehow that one condemning action made everything worse, as though stripping away another piece of his humanity.

A burst of energy brought on by the anger and frustration blossomed through Ben's chest and rushed into his limbs, and he darted swiftly from camp, a sudden need to hunt so powerfully overwhelming that nothing else mattered. Not his brothers, his father, the 2nd Mass, air to breath and food to eat, and especially not Jimmy's answer or lack thereof to his earlier proclamations.

From the start, Jimmy made it abundantly clear he had no clue what he was doing. He said it often enough those days, and his accusations towards Ben rang horribly in Ben's ears.

…y_ou always knew exactly what you were doing from the start._

It was true. Ben always knew his feelings for Jimmy and exactly what he wanted from the other boy. Maybe that was the problem. It wasn't that Jimmy didn't know what he wanted; it was that Jimmy didn't want the same things. And who could blame Jimmy? No one, not even Ben, not after what Ben had done to his brother, and his father, and reluctant his lover, Jimmy.

…

Jimmy placed the last of the rifles he'd spent all afternoon cleaning in the rack of the artillery truck. He peeked his head out the trailer, scanned the area outside briefly then hopped out and wandered around several vehicles towards Anthony's voice. From the sounds of things, Anthony was with the Berserkers. They were talking about the returned Professor Mason, which was a nice change, Jimmy supposed, from their usual conversations about Ben and the other unharnessed teens.

A pang of guilt ached through Jimmy's chest. There were worse crimes that he had committed, he knew, but somehow avoiding Ben felt like the dirtiest, lowest, most unforgiveable of sins. But what did Ben honestly expect after saying those words?

Ben's father had returned now, the Mason family, or what was left of it anyway, reunited at long last. They'd pull together, because that's what families did. Professor Mason would take control of his sons once more, they'd eat meals together, spend their spare time together, support one another, share the tent again so that Ben wouldn't be alone as the freak, half-alien outcast of the 2nd Mass. Professor Mason would be there to remind Ben that he was loved and wanted, to hold Ben up against the raging storm of fear and doubt rising from the civilians, to stand beside him when no one else would.

And where did that leave Jimmy?

Fuck, who knew. Maybe Ben had some pretty ideas in his head that he'd tell his father what he and Jimmy had been up to in those past few months and the good professor would welcome Jimmy with open arms and happily bring him into the fold. Jimmy would be the fourth son of the Mason family. He'd eat meals with them, spend his spare time with them, they'd give him support, and bring him into their tent, and they'd be one big, stupid, happy fucking family.

Or nothing would change. Professor Mason would take the information and sweep it aside as though a gnat flitting about his face in the hot open forest. No more than a minor, momentary discomfort. Jimmy would remain the orphan of the 2nd Mass, even less a part of the group than Ben because he had nothing, no family to anchor him there. They were both swimming for the same distant shore but only one of them had a life-vest. Time would be the final deciding factor. Things would dwindle, fade away, and die. Good riddance, fancy dreams of a better tomorrow. Jimmy could see it flash before his eyes, that vision of a future in a world where no aliens existed, a college romance, a road-trip to Disneyland, a stopover in a seedy motel, there it was and then gone, whisked away by reality.

Again, Ben's words played through Jimmy's mind. They'd been on endless loop since falling so carelessly off Ben's lips. Jimmy set his jaw and grit his teeth. No, it wasn't for him. None of it was for him. Those kinds of words were meant for people with futures. All Jimmy had to look forward to was a bullet in the head and a cold grave if he was lucky.

"Did you have anything else for me to do?" Jimmy asked as soon as he was near enough to Anthony. Anthony and the others around him paused in their conversation, all eyes turned on Jimmy, considering him as he fidgeted nervously and dropped his gaze.

"You could do me a solid and take a break," Anthony suggested and Jimmy scowled.

"I'm fine."

"Everyone else has taken a breather since we shook those Skitters," Anthony pointed out, "There's no bonus in this job. You work too hard, you'll get yourself killed in battle making a mistake out of exhaustion."

"I said I'm fine," Jimmy folded his arms over his chest and glared at the ground, "I like to keep busy is all."

"Really? Where I'm standing it looks like you broke up with your boyfriend," Pope commented. Jimmy rolled his eyes up to meet the older man's expression, a flash of mortification crossed their blue depths.

"Fuck you," he spat out in a low voice before he could stop himself. He braced for impact. Pope locked eyes with him, a darkness touching the edge of the older man's features. A tense hush fell over the group. Jimmy nibbled his inner cheek but stood his ground.

Then suddenly the surrounding adults burst into laughter and Anthony sighed, shaking his head at the lot.

"I think you touched a nerve," Crazy Lee chuckled.

"Sounds like nail on the head to me," Boon added, grinning maniacally.

"If you don't have anything for me, I guess I'll go find Dai," Jimmy hastily excused himself, stalking angrily from the group.

Every member of the 2nd Mass undoubtedly took notice of Jimmy keeping his distance from Ben. Jimmy passed a group of civilians sitting in a group working on patching clothing. They paused to watch him walk by, whispering amongst each other. Self-consciously, Jimmy hurried his pace. He wondered how many were sharing Pope's observation. Then the thought crossed into his mind, if Ben wondered that same thing. Had they broken up after all?

Jimmy sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, then stumbled back in surprise, gagging, when a hard force grabbed him by the collar and yanked him back. He spun round, tirade on his tongue, only for his mouth to slam shut when he faced the young man that had manhandled him into the full stop.

"Hal?" Jimmy choked out, rubbing his neck in agitation.

Once, not too long ago, Jimmy used to spend a good chunk of his time with Hal, treated almost as if a replacement little brother to the older boy, back before Ben had been found and rescued. But since Ben had been brought back to camp, that had changed, Jimmy faded into the background and stayed there, even despite the development of his strange relationship with Ben. Lately, Hal treated Jimmy as an accessory or extension of Ben, which meant if he were roughly dragging Jimmy into a conversation then it most likely had something to do with Ben.

"What happened?" Jimmy asked, fear instantly gripping him. A thousand scenarios rushed into his head: a flock of aliens had found them and Ben was hurt fighting them off, Ben ran away because he couldn't handle his own confession to Jimmy and the subsequent piss-poor excuse for a response or his father's state had taken a turn for the worse and he blamed himself, or the signal had finally wormed into Ben's brain and taken over completely, he went on a killing spree and had to be put down like a dog gone mad, or he left camp, following the signal like a child to the pied piper, disappeared same as Rick and Kelsey, one by one the unharnessed kids lining up like cows on a slaughterhouse assembly line.

"What the hell is up with Ben?" Hal demanded, hands on hips and brow drawn tightly together.

"I…don't know," Jimmy stammered, taken aback. He'd expected the conversation to be about Ben, but he'd been braced for bad news, not complaint. Honestly, though, he should've known better.

"Really? You really expect me to believe that you don't know what he was up to today?" Hal growled.

Jimmy opened his mouth and closed it without making a sound, blinked once. Okay, maybe not _everyone_ had noticed the distance he'd been keeping from Ben those past few days.

"I haven't seen him. I've been busy around camp," Jimmy explained, and it wasn't a complete lie.

"Fine. Then maybe you could just explain to me what the hell has been up with him these past several weeks," Hal growled, "I know the harness changed him, and okay, that's fair, any amount of time spent under alien mind control is going to screw you up, sure, but he's been acting less and less like my little brother every day."

"What exactly did he do?" Jimmy carefully questioned. He knew from Ben that Hal had been on the receiving end of Ben's uncontrolled violent outbursts and memory losses, but how many times it had happened and how much Hal knew about it was a mystery.

"I thought we were in agreement," Hal ranted, "That we were on the same page with this one thing, at least. But he turns around, goes behind my back, does whatever the fuck he wants, and then when I confront him about it, I'm the one that's trying to boss everyone around, pretending to be dad, he says. What the hell is that? But so what if I am? I'm the older brother, god damn it. I have to be responsible for them, protect them, you know? I'm the one that dad's going to come down on if anything happens to one of them."

"Right," Jimmy murmured, shifting uncomfortably.

"He's unbelievable sometimes, you know?" Hal continued, pacing away a few steps and shaking his head angrily at the ground, "He's always been difficult but…but I don't know what to do about his anger issues."

"Anger issues?" Jimmy prompted.

"It feels like he's ready to snap at any moment. It gets to the point where I can't even push a little on a disagreement with him before he's got me round the neck ready to start swinging," Hal clarified.

Jimmy frowned, absently rubbing a hand over the forearm that Ben had grabbed him by weeks past.

"Not to mention, one comment he doesn't like and he's jumping down my throat. He never used to start fights before, hell, he avoided them if he could. He was mostly a quiet kid. He whined a lot, but that was it. This isn't like him," Hal finished, glaring at Jimmy expectantly.

"He's been through a lot," Jimmy said.

"Yeah, he mentioned it," Hal grumbled.

"You can't expect him to have gone through what he did and still be the same person," Jimmy continued, as a nagging voice in the back of his head that sounded vaguely like Roman pointed out that he was covering for Ben, again, making excuses for the other boy, "From the sounds of things, he grew a backbone. Did you really want him to keep being a quiet, whiny little kid in _this_ world?"

"I…well…" Hal gaped.

"And hell, Hal, of course he's angry. He's surrounded by a couple hundred people who decided they hated him before ever meeting him, but they still want him to go out there, risk himself to save their lives. He slips up just a little, or even if something out of his control happens, and they're calling for his head. He didn't mean to shoot his dad, fuck, anyone would've taken that shot and hit your dad in that situation, but everyone's talking about it like it's some kind of proof that he's a traitor still working for the aliens," Jimmy raged, "Shit, Hal, maybe you could back the fuck off him for a minute, give him space, instead of breathing down his neck all the time like the rest of the assholes in this unit. Maybe that's what you could do about his anger issues."

They fell silent. Jimmy trembled somewhat from his rush of emotion, and his fear of the aftermath, while Hal seemed to be processing Jimmy's words.

"I don't know why I thought talking to you would get me anywhere," Hal finally muttered,"You'll take his side no matter what."

"That's not true," Jimmy began protest. He faltered, dropping his eyes and frowning at the ground.

"Okay, then tell me honestly, you really think Ben's right about teaching Matt to shoot?" Hal demanded.

Jimmy darted his eyes up to briefly meet the older boy's in stun, before dropping them once more. He'd talked to Ben on occasion about taking Matt to the gun range, but Ben always rejected the idea for some reason or another. It had occurred to Jimmy that the older brothers were dead set against their youngest learning to fight and joining the fray, which made sense. The kid was only nine, and Professor Mason hadn't wanted Ben learning to fight, Matt was out of the question. Jimmy didn't want to fathom what prompted Ben to change his mind; overprotective and overbearing Ben, who was against even Jimmy, the more experienced fighter of the two, being on the battlefield.

"I…don't think you'll believe my honest answer," Jimmy stammered.

"You would stand with Ben on this? He's nine years old, Jimmy," Hal cried, "He has no business holding a gun. It's bad enough that _you_ have one…"

"Hey, I do okay with that gun out there," Jimmy retorted sharply, "And you know, seriously, it's about damn time that someone taught that kid to shoot. Hell, every kid in the 2nd Mass ought to be taught…"

"He's my kid brother; I guess I shouldn't expect you to understand…" Hal grumbled.

"I understand," Jimmy argued, "You want to protect him, shield him from the bad things. You don't want him to have to know how horrible the world's gotten, to have to shovel through the shit that you do. I mean, I know you know that one day he's going to have to deal with it, and you just want to prolong the inevitable as long as you possibly can, keep him a kid awhile longer, but you know, innocence'll get you killed these days. And, honestly, believe me or not, if Matt were my younger sibling, I would have taught her how to shoot."

Hal wrinkled his brow, "Her?"

"What?" Jimmy flustered.

"You said her," Hal noted, perking a brow, and looking at Jimmy strangely, as though suddenly seeing him for the first time.

"No I didn't," Jimmy took a step back and shook his head, "It doesn't matter. This is pointless. I swear to God, you're worse than Ben. I mean what the fuck is with you Masons, huh? It's like I might as well not even say anything, you've already got it all figured out. Why even bother asking me to give an honest answer if you already 'know' what the truth is?"

"You know, you're right. This was pointless," Hal returned, he looked thoughtful a moment, and then, as if deciding something, reached into his jacket and dug out a slightly rumpled yet familiar book, shoving it at Jimmy, "I found this in the tent when I broke it down before the attack at the community center. It was just laying there, right out in the open."

Jimmy didn't bother looking at the book's title, holding it down and slightly hidden against his pant leg, his stomach twisting into knots and features flushed.

"Matt could've been the one that found this," Hal seethed, then shook his head and snorted softly, "Figure you should probably hold on to it, because Ben can be so careless and stupid, he'd leave it out for dad to find."

Heat rushed to Jimmy's head at the thought, intensifying the color in his cheeks from mortification at Hal finding the book in the first place. He nodded distantly, unable to speak around the lump lodged in his throat. Hal shifted uncomfortably, scowled and ran a hand across the back of his neck.

"I don't want to know what you and Ben do, I really don't," Hal said, "But if you're having sex with my brother…"

"Jesus Christ," Jimmy groaned, burying his face in his palm. As if things couldn't get worse in his relationship with Ben.

"No, you listen to me," Hal hissed, lightly smacking Jimmy's shoulder to get his attention, "Ben's not half as tough as he pretends to be. When he gets hurt, he _really_ gets hurt. If he thinks this means more than you do, it'll crush him. You're right that he's been through a lot, and the last thing he needs is some little shit screwing with his emotions."

"So what is this supposed to be? The 'treat my brother with respect' talk?" Jimmy grumbled sheepishly.

"No. This is me telling you if you break my brother's heart, pack a bag, pick a direction and start walking, because you're dead if you stay with the 2nd Mass," Hal returned, then gestured the book, "Now stash that garbage somewhere Matt won't find, please."

Jimmy nodded stiffly, watching with shadowed features as Hal stalked away, wondering in a low mutter beneath his breath, "What if he breaks my heart?"

* * *

.

.

.

AN: Right. Um, not much to say about this chapter. Matt learning to shoot and a little more insight into Jimmy's feelings.

Let me know what you guys think.

Reviewers: Sassysavanna190, that's the shortest review I've gotten from you so far, but still loaded with emotion! It was a bit of a heartbreaking scene last chapter, I can understand. And yes, Tom is back. And yes, something bad must always happen and soon [insert maniacal laughter here]. Dee, yes, you definitely more than made up for missing last chapter. I love reading your thoughts on the characters. You're definitely right that Ben got hurt hardcore last chapter. Jimmy is definitely not going to make the relationship easy on either of them at all. Flying spaghetti monsters, yay! NoxOne, a kiss ass? No, not really. :) Yeah, they need to open up to eachother more, one boy more than the other, but still...hm...yeah, I have a few writing projects lined up, so I don't think I'll be too bored when this is done. I really can't wait to start posting that dark future Falling Skies fic. IcicleLilly, sorry. I don't know what else to say. I don't know how long it'll take to get to the reunion. I know, I know, the updates are soooooo far apart, but hey, I am reliable. I always post when I say I will. FacePalmer123, bwahahahahahahahahahahaha! I enjoy playing with emotions, why would I stop now? :) As you can see this chapter, though, Jimmy doesn't necessarily consider him and Ben broken up. So there's that. JDMlvr1, yeah, a bit of steamy-ness to tide you over for a little while, hopefully? Um...Jimmy definitely messed up, but Ben kind of expected as much. He knows his lover well. I actually don't watch the show anymore. I stopped exactly one episode and ten minutes after Compass. I hope everyone who still watches continues to enjoy though! Typhoonboom08, now I know last chapter must have been good! Yeah, it would be too far outside of Jimmy's character for him to take those words well. Hopefully, he'll sort out his emotions on the issue soon. It is a vulnerable place, and while Ben maybe ready for that kind of vulnerability, Jimmy's not. Maben00, awesome! I love new readers. Glad you found the stories and to hear that you love them! It makes me so happy that the stories are drawing you in and that you're feeling for the characters as much as you are! Thanks for stopping in! Hope to hear from you again. PS, I also hope Greg sees your review. I'm a little worried about him...but I think he'll be fine.

See you guys Sunday and have a Happy Father's Day!


	53. Chapter 53

AN: Thanks for the reviews you guys.

And Greg is back! Thanks to Greg for beta-ing.

* * *

LIII.

The next day, when word reached Ben that his father was awake and cognitive, Hal was out on scout and Matt had already spent the entire morning in the medic van with Tom and was in desperate need of a break. It seemed appropriate in a way, that Ben face his father alone, as though marching up those van steps like a criminal on his way to sentencing. Dr. Glass gave him an encouraging smile when he entered.

"He's been asking about you," she whispered, leading the way towards the curtain his father rested behind. She ducked in to check that Tom was still awake and to let him know he had a visitor then ushered Ben inside.

"Hey, son," Tom greeted weakly, propping himself up slightly and offering a tired smile.

A tiny smile ghosted across Ben's lips and abruptly vanished. Vaguely, he wondered if Tom was aware who fired the bullet. Though rationally he knew his father looked right at him that day before falling into shock, through the medication, adrenaline rush, and blood loss, it was possible Tom couldn't remember. At the forefront of Ben's mind, he felt at a loss. Briefly, during his most recent intimate encounter with Jimmy, Ben had somewhat imagined that when his father woke up, he wouldn't be alone to face him. He'd sort of thought, hoped maybe that Jimmy would be standing next to him. Possibly holding his hand, a quiet comfort, a reminder of who he was and who he no longer had to be.

Because if there was one thing Ben's father was good at, despite all best intentions, it was making Ben feel like the smallest, most defenseless child. He'd been the sickly son, a bit air-headed at times, off gallivanting in his fantasy worlds. His parents felt they needed to shelter him more than the other two. His entire life they'd been unabashed in constantly reminding him that the things he did now in the 2nd Mass, with the alien genetic alterations to his body, things he always wanted to be able to do, were things he was not and would never be capable of doing.

Dr. Glass looked between the father and son and quietly excused herself, gently touching Ben's shoulder in passing.

"Dad," Ben started apology, his voice quaking with the effort.

"It's okay, son," Tom interrupted; extending a hand which Ben hesitantly took hold of, "I'm okay."

"What did they do to you?" Ben asked.

"Don't worry about that," Tom replied, his words slightly cracking, and Ben furrowed his brow, silently adding: _even if it was because of you that they took me, "_Matt's gotten tall since I've been gone."

"I guess."

"You're all getting older," Tom murmured, leaning back on the bed again and shaking his head at the ceiling, lamenting, "Growing up in this world."

Ben gave his father's hand a small squeeze, but said nothing. There was an eerie strangeness to Tom, as though the aliens had taken something from him. He seemed almost resigned in a way.

"I don't want you to blame yourself," Tom declared, sitting up again, and locking eyes with his son, "My decision to go with the aliens…"

"I don't," Ben hastily cut in, setting his jaw, telling himself it wasn't altogether a lie for his father's benefit, "I blame them. When they took me…"

Ben faltered, shook his head, and pulled slightly away from his father, pacing a couple steps, terrible thoughts and dark emotions tumbling through his head. He let himself remember for a moment, a fraction of a second, the turmoil of being snatched by the aliens, held hostage, harnessed. The memories felt so real that he could smell the stale air of the warehouse they'd kept him in, feel the cold ground and rough touch of the Skitter claws, and still feel the agonizing pain of the harness biting in for the first time, attaching itself. He took a deep breath.

"I want to show you something," Ben determined, steadying himself. He turned around, considered what he was doing a moment, and then delicately lifted his t-shirt up over his shoulders to reveal the spikes that lined his back. Those repulsive barbs, forever a part of him, marked for the rest of his life as something less…less human, serving as keepsake of the torment he'd gone through and the horrible things he was forced to do.

"Ben," Tom whispered, clearly uncertain of what to say.

"I hate them," Ben said, "It's how I get through it. I hate them. I think about all of the things they've done…to me…to everyone I care about, and I keep thinking about it, constantly, how much I hate them, and I use that hate to fuel me, to keep fighting."

He dropped his shirt and turned to his father.

"That's what you have to think about," Ben continued, as his father gaped up at him, "What they did to me, and to mom, and to everyone. It'll help, I know, it helps me."

"Oh, no, Ben," Tom murmured, his features dropping a moment, then lighting again, "No, son. Hating them is not the answer. What kept me going out there, what brought me back to you boys; it was love, Ben, my love for you and your brothers. You can't spend your life hating, you can't let that be your motivation, it'll just lead you down a dark path."

Ben fell back a step, feeling as though he'd been slapped in the face for the umpteenth time that week.

Love.

He could feel himself in that moment again, standing in that abandoned insurance company, staring hopeful and anxious into blue eyes the size of saucers, drowning him in their cool depths. The words tumble off his tongue but even before he says them he knows they're falling on deaf ears. What the hell had love ever gotten him? A broken heart? More like a feeling akin to being emotionally eviscerated to the point that he was numb to everything that happened beyond that moment. He could die the most painful death possible a thousand times, and it would never come close to watching Jimmy walking silently away from him. As if he hadn't watched that boy walk away from him enough times to last the rest of his sad, pathetic, lonely life.

"You're wrong," Ben mumbled, stepping away from his father and shaking his head emphatically, "You don't know what you're talking about. Love doesn't help anything."

"Ben," Tom pleaded, but Ben was done. He tore out of the medic van, leaning against its side panel for support, gasping for air. He hadn't realized the tears that sprang to his eyes until he ran a hand across and smeared them. Would it really have been the worst thing? To smile? To kiss him? Hold him at least? Even if he didn't return the emotion, Jimmy could've at least pretended to accept Ben's.

Composed, Ben started away, only for his feet to clamp hard to the ground, locking him securely in place. In the distance he could see Jimmy, leaned against one of the surrounding buildings, smoking a cigarette and watching Ben, his expression gave nothing of his emotions away. They held one another's eyes for several seconds, a powerful ache stretching across Ben's chest and urging him to go to the other boy, but then Ben noticed Jimmy's company, Roman and the other two. He jerked his gaze away and stalked across camp the opposite direction, until he was far outside the perimeter, and burst into a blind sprint. He didn't care where he went or what he met along the way.

Seconds later, gasping for breath, Ben collapsed to the field. His chest felt constricted his lungs like they were filling with water. His vision blurred and panic set in. He couldn't get air. He would black out soon. He was going to die. He barely acknowledged the large, warm hand that plopped down on his shoulder, straightening him upright, or the plastic mouthpiece that brushed insistent to his lip. He shook his head stubbornly, ground his teeth together which only made his attempts for air harder. But he knew he didn't need it anymore, he was fine.

"Take your medicine, Ben," his father whispered in his ear, worry lining his tone.

This wasn't right. His father couldn't be here. Everything was wrong. Felt wrong, looked wrong, smelled wrong, tasted wrong, and sounded wrong. He was in an open field. The sun beat down, almost ninety degrees. Ben was certain it wasn't supposed to be that hot outside. The air smelled of pollen, burning up his sinuses even though he felt it had been ages since his allergies had flared. The air smelled crisp, like fresh cut grass, not of smog or dust, the way a city center should smell. There were sounds of people. Lively, laughing, and chatting loudly. And his father was there. He shouldn't be there.

Yet, Ben couldn't remember where his father was supposed to be or why he felt so out of place. If this wasn't right, then what was?

Bursts of black splotches exploded across Ben's vision. Bitterly, he bit onto the offered inhaler mouth and his father pumped the medication down his throat. It took three pumps and a few minutes before Ben could breathe regularly again, his father gently rubbing circles in the middle of back.

"Take it easy, son. Take it one breath at a time," his father instructed and Ben felt hot tears of frustration and embarrassment spring to his eyes. He swatted them away, but he could still feel them burning in his cheeks and the back of his throat.

All around them broke out a rash of low whispers. A small crowd of people had gathered, watching with interest. Hal and Matt's voices were nearby. Matt was answering a few questions it seemed, trying as best an eight year old talking to a group of adults could to disperse the crowd. Meanwhile, Hal laughed and joked with his friends at his dork little brother spazzing out. They were at the park for a lacrosse practice. Ben had pushed himself too hard.

Again.

As if there was a level he could push himself that wasn't too hard.

"I was just a little out of breath," Ben complained, pushing his father away and stumbling to his feet, nearly tripping over himself as he reeled on the older man, "That was all. I was going to be fine. Why do you always treat me like that? I'm not an invalid!"

"Ben, I think you ought to sit out of the game for a bit," Tom suggested, disregarding the outburst altogether.

The crowd of onlookers, seeing that Ben was fine, broke away and returned to their own play. Nearby, Hal and his friends muffled snickers and Ben darted a look to them. Nate and Cole slapped on abashed expressions, but Hal smirked at Ben.

"I think dad's right," Hal said, "Also, it's probably the best thing you could do for your team. You hand us so many points, you might as well be an honorary member of ours."

"Hal," Tom growled warning. Ben tilted his chin down, hands balling into fists, and he trembled in his anger and mortification as the other boys laughed cruelly.

"What, dad? I'm trying to help you," Hal persisted.

"No, you're trying to get yourself grounded for the weekend," Tom returned sharply, "You're partly to blame for this. You should've been paying better attention to your brother. You didn't notice his asthma was acting up? You know, Hal, if you had stopped caring about yourself and winning this game for five seconds, maybe you would've seen that he was lagging behind everyone because of his condition and not his athletic ability."

Something dark passed over Hal's expression and he shrugged, dropping his eyes and commenting in a lazy tone, "Well, hell, dad, you're the one who said every time you pass to him you might as well just be passing to me and that it's almost sad Matt's always your MVP."

Everyone fell silent. Nate and Cole sought something to look at that was anything but the Mason family. Matt took a few steps back, contemplating the distant playground. He always said he liked the swings better than lacrosse anyhow. Ben felt cold, nausea washing over him. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry or just scream. It wasn't fair.

"Is that what you really think, dad?" he whispered question.

Hal glared at the ground. Tom couldn't look at Ben, and that was all the answer Ben needed. He spun from the group, kicking his fallen lacrosse stick in passing, and hurrying towards their car.

"Ben," Tom called after, his voice a strangled plea, "That is not what I said! Hal, you are grounded, young man, forget about whatever plans you had this weekend."

"That is not fair! Just because he's a little baby that can't handle the truth…"

"Shut it, Hal. Ben, come back here," Tom cried.

Ben reached the car, mad at himself for the steady stream of tears cascading down his cheeks. He tried the door, though he knew it was locked, and then slammed his hand against the handle, collapsing to the ground and burying his face in his knees. It didn't make him feel any better that his eyes were starting to itch and his sinuses were clogging up. His vision was blurred enough without the allergies. A sob escaped his throat, and that was it, he succumbed to his sorrow, shaking with barely containable dismay.

Several tens of minutes passed, and Ben's crying slowly died away. He leaned back against the side of the car, staring blankly across the parking lot. Not too far away, he could see a few boys about his own age smoking cigarettes and trying to appear as though they weren't staring at him, whispering amongst themselves and laughing. Great, he bitterly noted, now everyone at the park knew what a loser he was, they would pass it onto others, and soon the whole world would be aware of what a lame, crybaby Ben Mason was.

The sound of footsteps nearby shook Ben from his depressed musings. He glanced at his approaching father then hastily jerked his head away.

"You okay?" Tom asked.

Ben sniffled, and shrugged. Tom sighed. He knelt down near Ben and tilted his head to one side, peering thoughtfully at the younger boy.

"You did score that point earlier, remember? It was a really good play," Tom started.

"I scored one point. Go me," Ben grumbled, biting sarcasm.

"Well, you know what your mom says. One is better than none, and none is better than not even bothering to try," Tom said.

"Can we go home now?" Ben demanded, turning a heated glare on his father. Tom tipped his head down.

"You know, Ben, you're good at a lot of things that Hal is jealous of, too," he attempted.

"Like what?" Ben scoffed.

"Like school. You're grades are always…"

"Great, dad thanks a lot. Why don't you just pin a sign on my back that says 'World's Biggest Loser'?" Ben groaned.

"You think being smart makes you a loser?" Tom challenged, "Because if that's the case, then I'm a loser too. I graduated high honors in high school, Dean's List every semester in college, graduated Suma cum Laude."

"Oh my God, dad, will you stop? Just stop. You think you can relate to me? You think you're going to pull out your list of accomplishments and somehow we'll connect over that? You're never going to understand how I feel. You don't know what it's like to be me and you never will. You were captain of your lacrosse team in high school. You were Homecoming King, for crying out loud," Ben snapped, "I'm captain of the chess club. I probably won't ever go to homecoming, if I'm lucky I'll get to be dungeon master the night of the big dance."

"Ben…"

"Will you just admit that I'm your worst embarrassment and take me home?"

"No," Tom said, "Because that is not true. I am very proud of all of my sons, you are each special in your own ways…"

Ben rubbed his hands over his face, grinding his teeth and fighting the urge to shout or lash out violently. He pushed his emotions down as far inside of himself as they could squeeze, took a deep breath, smoothed out his features and forced a half-smile.

"Okay, dad," he grit out lie, "Okay. You're right. I know you're proud of me. I was just a little upset and my allergies are acting up. Can we go home now? Please? I'm tired and I want to take a shower."

Tom considered Ben for a few seconds, and Ben squirmed somewhat under the scrutinizing stare.

"I know you don't believe me, son, but I want you to listen anyway. In ten years, twenty, it won't matter who could run the longest distance, or who scored the most points, but it will always matter who knew the most answers and got the best grades. Maybe right now it means something to impress your peers demonstrating physical prowess, and it's not so cool to know big words, read a lot of books, but in the long run, it means so much more to be smart," Tom said, patting Ben's shoulder and grunting in a strained effort as he lifted himself to his feet, "I'll go get your brothers, let them know we're leaving."

Ben turned his head, listened to his father's retreat as he swatted away fresh tears strolling carelessly down his cheeks. He'd heard the same lecture enough times, that the meek would inherit the earth, from enough people to know that it was a rose-colored glasses kind of pep-talk that discarded reality. People weren't sorted into these perfect categories of nerds, jocks, geeks, and stoners, whatever. You were either a winner or a loser. Tom was a winner. Hal was a winner. And Ben was a loser.

At the crunch of approaching footsteps, the sound of his brothers' and father's voices, Ben climbed to his feet and wearily scanned the scenery, trying to look nonchalant, and uninterested in his family. His eyes swept across the boys smoking in the distance and his heart caught at a glimpse of blue. Without thought, he started forward, his feet carrying him towards that strangely familiar boy of their own accord.

"Ben, where are you going? I thought you wanted to leave," Tom called after, but he was fading into the distant background.

The boy disappeared into the public restroom, and Ben hurried after, not even realizing he'd started running until he burst through the bathroom door and fell head first into a sea of white, crashing into the young blonde woman. They tumbled to the ground and Ben flustered, looking down at her beneath him. He scrambled back and she sat up, smiling at him in a cool and unconcerned way.

"Where…?"

Ben bit his tongue. That question never got him anywhere.

"That boy, I know he was here, where did he go?"

"There's no one here but us, Ben," the girl replied coyly.

Ben growled low in frustration, "You did something to him, didn't you?"

"No."

"You're lying," Ben roared, "Where is he? I have to find him!"

"Why?" the girl wondered.

"I don't know," Ben whimpered, "I just know that…I do."

"You need to stop fighting, Ben," the girl replied, taking Ben's hand in her own. He stared blankly at their twined fingers, "You need to realize that maybe you can't find him, because you aren't supposed to find him. Give up, Ben. Give up. Give in. You can't save him. You can't save any of them. This is where you belong."

Ben ripped his hand away, stepping back from the girl, horror written in his features. A searing pain cut across his vision, a shrill ringing erupted in his ears, just barely muffling the sound of nearby screams, a noise like a child crying. Ben clutched his head in his palms, squeezed his eyes tightly closed.

"No," he cried, and lunged as though to attack the girl, stumbling into the side of a crumbling office building overrun with creeper vines, debris and shrapnel clinging in its leaves. He clutched the wall, stone dust grinding into his sweaty palms, and blinked away the final remnants of his reverie. He couldn't recall what he'd seen or where he'd been. He stood in line for the mess tent at camp. A few people nearby eyed him strangely. He wasn't sure how he'd gotten there; last he could recall he'd left camp for a run and possibly a hunt. He hurried from the line, rubbing at his face.

_You're not the hero_…he wasn't trying to be.

_This is the future_…he didn't know what his future was anymore.

_You can't save him…_but there was nothing could stop him from trying.

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AN: Didn't like this chapter, personally, really didn't like the scene in the show either, but please, let me know what you guys all think!

Reviewers: Maben00, ah, yeah, a lot of sighs in this story. But if they're together and happy, then there's no story to tell, right? I'm glad to hear you liked it, though you didn't know what to say! Maybe you'll have things to say about this chapter? Not that I mind either way, so long as I hear from you, I'm happy! TyphoonBoom08, yeah, I get the impression a lot of people were flabbergasted that Tom and Hal were so anti-Matt-learning-to-shoot. Personally, I'm still baffled how there were _adults_ in the camp that didn't know how to shoot. Another rant for another day, though. Aw, I guess I write tragic tales...hm...there might be a happy ending at some point. Maybe. I don't know. Dee, awwww, I hate when computer glitches make me lose my reviews. I'm glad you didn't lose yours, it's immensely impressive. I really liked your insight on Ben, that a huge part of what's happening to him is probably just normal teenager hormones. Normal teenager hormones on alien overdrive, maybe, but still just teen hormones. Very good catch with Jimmy. He can't let himself want the happy ending, that would be the most depressing thing he could do, because in his heart and mind, he doesn't believe he deserves it. I never understood a lot of Hal's character in the show. I'm trying not to turn him into too much of a jerk, but it just comes naturally to him. Oi, I'm biased. Honestly, a (possibly subconscious) part of Hal may be slightly struggling with the relationship between Ben and Jimmy. He's got contrasting views in his head. I want to go on a philosophical/psychoanalytical rant right now, but I'm fighting the urge. His dismissal of the book, though, might've had more to do with it being a sex book and in the western world we're taught that sex is disgusting and material on it is "garbage". Anyhow, while privately we know Hal has a stash of naughty porn in his duffel bag, publicly he's got to reject this smutty book as garbage. Maybe, I don't know. And yes, I won't say too much, but I did land Jimmy with that sex book for a reason. Facepalmer, that's what needs to happen? Hm...I think I've got a great deal more heartache in mind. Maybe. Still around a see. Fluff is coming up fairly soon though, so stick around. Er...well, one update a week makes it less soon than it is for me, but...eh, you know what I mean. Right? Right.

Later people. See you...uh...Sunday.


	54. Chapter 54

A/N: Realized there were reviewers that posted on different chapters and I never replied to. Sorry! Clicked on just the reviews for last chapters.

Anyhow, thank you to all the reviewers who popped in last week, you guys are awesome.

And a big thank you to Greg. He got the edits to me early on Saturday, that hasn't happened in awhile, turned out he thought it was Sunday morning, which would be a bad time to get my edits to me. He's all kinds of frazzled right now, life does that to you. Thanks for making time, Greg!

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LIV.

Outside of guarding during moves and taking a shift patrolling the perimeter every few days during camps, there wasn't much for a fighter to do in those recent days. Most of the other fighters spent their off time relaxing with friends, drinking, eating, smoking if they were smokers – sometimes even if they weren't, exchanging stories about 'before' and laughing at the good memories long gone.

For Jimmy, the lull was made all the more mind-numbingly boring because of his avoiding Ben. On occasion he spent time with Maggie, but she and Hal hung out often, and Jimmy had been avoiding the older Mason brother since their last encounter, partly because of the conversation, mostly because of the book. Jimmy found it hard to as much as look at Hal without blushing from head to toe, burning with embarrassment at how far Hal probably thought Jimmy and Ben had gotten sexually, let alone the fact Hal could possibly be thinking about Jimmy and Ben having sexual encounters together. As for the book, Jimmy stashed it in the side-paneling of one of the car trunks. He could retrieve it later when he had a place to put it. He'd lost his bag and what little personal items he had during the attack on the community center, the great disadvantage of having no one but yourself to rely on. Ben's brothers had ensured that their family tent was broken down and items packed away before the first assaults, Dr. Glass letting them stow it on her medic van. They were lucky enough to lose nothing. All Jimmy had in that bag anyhow was a change of clothes and a few basic hygiene products that could be replaced from the unit's stock after a lot of pleading and some minor bartering with the civilian in charge. He ended up trading away his best lighter for toothpaste and deodorant, one of the last things he had left from before the war. He figured Ben was always nagging him to quit smoking anyways.

Jimmy couldn't spend much time with Anthony, as Anthony had taken to spending time with his new unit and Jimmy had gotten himself in enough trouble with Pope to last a few lifetimes, he didn't want to push it with the older man any farther. Dai was constantly busy with official business, still acting as second while Tom recovered and debate blazed through camp as to whether Tom should even be allowed to take over his former responsibilities. Jimmy had gathered that the majority of the 2nd Mass was against such a decision, but he also knew that Captain Weaver looked forward to having his original second back and rarely listened to majority opinion.

Beyond hiding from Ben, and searching for something to occupy his attention, Jimmy had absolutely nothing to do. He attempted a game of kickball or soccer or something, no one was ever entirely sure what they were playing, with a group of kids but it grew increasingly difficult to ignore the whispers behind his back and the pointed stares. A few parents called their kids from the game, and he decided to give up. Part of it, he knew, had to be the rumors about his relationship with Ben; while the other part of it, he was certain, were the roles he had played in recent battles. People could be publicly grateful of the things he'd done to help keep the 2nd Mass moving, but in private, no one wanted their children playing with an invasion orphan that killed Skitters and built bombs. Too many naïve parents interested in preserving as much of their children's youth as possible, which didn't include exposing them to the walking embodiment of every horrible thing the aliens had inflicted on the world.

Eventually, Jimmy found himself hiding from the whole of the 2nd Mass on the fringe of camp, leaning against some old office building, smoking with a bitter resent. He almost wished the aliens would attack just to give him something to do. Ben jumped to the forefront of his mind and he shook that thought instantly away. Ben wasn't a conversation he was ready to have just yet. He knew it wasn't fair, leaving the other boy wondering where they stood, or even if they stood anywhere at all anymore, but if life was fair, the aliens never would've invaded and Jimmy would've passed his English class last semester. Like his essay on _The Great Gatsby_, life sucked.

"You know, smoking does not make you look cool," a voice piped from nearby and Jimmy straightened, tilting his head to one side, glaring at Gia in response as she sauntered over and leaned against the wall beside him.

"Maybe not, but it calms my addiction," he said plaintively, placing his cigarette on his lip and taking a long drawl, blowing the smoke out Gia's direction She swatted at the air and made a show of coughing, "What do you want and where are your 'brothers'?"

"Rome and Dougie are around. I saw you standing here, thought I might say 'hi'. Is that such a problem?" Gia answered.

"Not if you'd actually said 'hi' instead of giving me shit about this," Jimmy muttered, wagging the cigarette at Gia. She pushed his hand away and perked a brow at him.

"You really do think you're some kind of tough kid, huh? Cussing and smoking, I bet you spit and scrap in the yard, too," she jeered, "Act like you're some thug. Before the war you were probably some mouth breathing, prep school brat that wet his bed if his mommy forgot to turn his nightlight on."

"Wow. Amazing. That is exactly what I was before the war. Bonus points if you can guess what superhero I had on my bed sheets," Jimmy returned sharply. Gia smirked, a little taken aback.

"Well, someone's in a bad mood today. Guessing it has to do with the fact you and Mason haven't breathed the same air for more than five seconds these past couple days," Gia noted wistfully, gently asking, "You want to talk about it?"

"No. And what is with you, anyway? With this overbearing mother routine all the time?" Jimmy demanded, taking another hard hit off his cigarette and pushing the smoke from his lungs with a vengeance, "I can't say shit, fuck, crap…damn? I mean, what the hell is your deal with cuss words?"

"I don't see the point of using that kind of language is all," Gia said quietly, shrugging and slumping against the wall.

"Seriously, what is it?" Jimmy wondered, his tone softening as he eyed the suddenly sullen girl. He sighed, and carefully questioned, "Before the war, what was your family like?"

"Normal, I guess," Gia shrugged, remaining silent. Jimmy smiled distantly, set his cigarette on his lip and then removed it without taking a hit. Speaking of walking embodiments of the horrors inflicted by the alien invasion. He recognized that faraway sorrow in Gia's expression; he saw it in his own every time he looked in a mirror.

"You were part right. About me. I went to a prep school, before," he admitted.

"I know," Gia remarked, grinning at his curious gape, explaining, "You've just got that look of a rich boy with daddy issues."

Jimmy straightened, heart skipping in sudden panic, "Did Roman tell you…" he faltered at Gia's obvious puzzlement. She smiled then, a sly smirk perking the corner of her lip.

"Oh, and what secret does Roman know about you that's _so_ personal you get that riled up it might've leaked out?" she teased.

"Nothing," Jimmy grumbled, shrinking against the wall and sucking on his cigarette agitatedly. Gia was thoughtful a moment and Jimmy glanced at her, a little unnerved by her quiet.

"I know Rome comes off strong," she commented.

"That's one word for it."

"You have to understand," she began, trailed off, shook her head and said, "His life was pretty rough before the war, you know, he's told us bits and pieces but I don't know everything. I guess to survive that kind of life, you have to become sort of closed off, sort of…cruel to counter the cruelty. Fire with fire, that sort of thing. He doesn't know how to love, how to properly care for another person, he never really learned it."

Jimmy said nothing, nibbling the cigarette filter absently.

"Before the aliens took us, he was really quiet, you know. Kind of shy, I guess," Gia went on, shifting slightly, her voice growing softer with every word, as though becoming increasingly aware that she was confessing things she probably shouldn't be, "He didn't really seem to trust anyone, kept to himself and his family. Even then, he seemed a little apart from them. He always seemed on edge, like he was afraid, but not of the aliens. Later, after our harnesses were removed, he was different. Like it changed him."

"It's not surprising. Everyone seems to be changed by the harness," Jimmy said.

"Some more than others," Gia mumbled, "Dougie and I have talked about it before, how much he's changed, and how we didn't really change as much as him. We feel the changes, the physical stuff, but we're still the same people, mostly. It's different with Roman, it's like he's become someone else entirely."

"Ben's changed a lot too, I guess," Jimmy put in, "His brothers talk about it. It bothers Ben's older brother, Hal, the most. I guess, maybe, everyone experiences the harness differently."

"I guess," Gia agreed, "What Roman said, about your boy Mason…"

Jimmy perked somewhat, bracing himself.

"It wasn't a lie, you know," Gia insisted, "He came into our camp, acted scared and lost, claimed he escaped the aliens, like Roman told you. It's the truth, Jimmy."

"If it is, it's only part of it," Jimmy argued, "There's more to the story, things you guys don't know. I know there is. There has to be. Because Ben wouldn't…"

"Roman, I think, kind of felt he connected with Mason, that fear and helplessness," Gia continued, and Jimmy furrowed his brow, startled at that new revelation, "He got his family to let Mason stay in their tent that night. The person Rome saw Mason murder, I guess, that was his grandmother."

Jimmy caught his breath, as he tapped the ash off the tip of his cigarette, the motion almost automated. He recalled what Roman had revealed, about the abuse he'd suffered from his grandmother. Jimmy couldn't see the other boy caring so much that the old woman was killed, not enough to want retribution, but then again, he hadn't thought he'd feel anything for his father's death, and those charred remains continued to haunt every dark recess in his mind.

"I know you won't believe this, but he only lays it on so thick with you, about trusting Mason, because he worries about you. He doesn't want you to get hurt, to be betrayed, like he was," Gia persisted, twisting a bit of her hair nervously round her finger, "He's not that bad a guy, you know. He's just really protective."

"But I don't need or want his protection," Jimmy pointed out.

"He can't help it though. He likes you," Gia said. Jimmy quickly darted her a surprised glance, and she covered a laugh, saying, "You know, sometimes I wonder if he only has such a crush on you because you're with Mason, and sometimes I think he only hates Mason so much because he has such a crush on you."

"So he…um…really does…?" Jimmy stammered question and Gia nodded.

"You had to of noticed. Big lug actually thinks he's subtle about it, as if finding a way to bring you into _every_ conversation he has is being subtle. And I mean, he's real bad about it, like 'I wonder what's for breakfast' gets a 'I wonder if that brat's had breakfast yet' kind of reply, that kind of bad."

Jimmy flustered, swallowing back the rush of confused emotion, and twist in his gut.

"Great," he groaned, grinding the keel of his palm into his face, attempting to rub away the heat and unrest, "What is it about me? Do I like…have a smell…or something that like, I don't know, turns on half-alien super soldiers or something?"

"No. At least, whatever it is don't work on me," Gia replied, then folded her arms over her chest and half-jokingly stated, "But just in case, stay away from Dougie. He's mine; you can have the other two."

"I don't want them both. I can barely handle the one," Jimmy complained, "I don't know what I would do with two."

"What's the matter? You don't want a little coffee to go with your sugar, eh, cream?" Gia chuckled and Jimmy felt certain he was starting to resemble a tomato or apple of some sort in color, burying his face in his hand to hide the flush.

"Congratulations. You are no longer an overbearing mother, but now the creepy aunt."

"Aw, should I pinch your cheeks and slobber you with the kind of cheap red lipstick that stains?"

"You would actually enjoy that, wouldn't you?" Jimmy realized and Gia slapped on a grin that would make the Cheshire cat envious. He shook his head at her and she let the smile fade away, falling into another melancholy as he smoked a bit.

"I have to confess something to you," Gia said.

"What is it?" Jimmy prompted easily, blowing a few smoke rings skyward.

"Um…it was me," Gia murmured, taking a deep breath and letting it out slow, "I was the one that wanted you to come with us from the community center…out to the alien structure."

"What do you mean by that?" Jimmy pressed, his brow stitching tightly together.

Gia fidgeted, "I just…the others, when they wanted to go out there…you weren't supposed to come with us, but then I…I wanted you to come. So I convinced them we needed you. I wanted you there. Because of Ben, I wanted…"

"Me to see that Ben couldn't be trusted," Jimmy finished scathingly, glaring in the distance. He couldn't wrap his head around what the deal was with the other unharnessed teenagers hating Ben so much. They had to understand that what happened with their original camp and their getting caught and harnessed wasn't him, it was the aliens controlling him.

"No," Gia hurriedly denied, "Roman thought that maybe…but that's not why."

Gia tugged at her hair and leaned her head back to stare at the blue of the heavens a moment.

"Before the invasion, there was one man I knew I could always trust and rely on, no matter what, he'd always be there for me. My daddy. After the invasion, now there's still only one man I know I can trust and rely on, no matter what, and that's Dougie," Gia said, and Jimmy watched her talking, uncertain where she was going with it, "And that's the same for you, isn't it? Ben's the one that you trust and rely on. And that's why, that's the reason I wanted you there."

"Not following," Jimmy said.

"We don't trust him. We look at him, and we see the bad, that he could be a traitor."

"Yeah, I know. You, and everyone else," Jimmy grumbled.

"But that's not what you see," Gia noted.

Jimmy fell silent, eyes falling to the ground and heart hammering away in his chest. It wasn't entirely true. He did see the bad things when he looked at Ben, same as everyone else, but he saw the good too, and in the end, it didn't really matter what he saw one way or the other, he would take it all because it was all Ben, and he cared about Ben, plain and simple.

"I wanted you there because…I guess, because, I want to see in him what you see," Gia went on, "At the grocery store, I saw what he could do, what he was capable of, and I feel like, maybe for a moment, I caught it, a glimpse, I saw it in him…the reasons why you believe in him so much. And, Jimmy, I want to believe in him too. I do. Because I think, and I want to believe, that when it comes down to it, it's going to be him. He's the one - _the only one_ - that can save us all."

The conviction in Gia's words burrowed into Jimmy, and he held her gaze, captivated for a few passing seconds, her confession seeping into him like flesh being ripped away to expose the blood pulsing beneath, until the crunch of approaching footsteps startled them both out of the trance. Roman and Doug appeared, Roman's eyes instantly finding Jimmy's and striking hot like lightening through Jimmy's veins, sending him searching for something, anything not that older boy, to look at, as Gia's earlier statement reverberated in his ears: _he likes you_.

"Everyone's buzzing around camp, Tom Mason is awake," Doug spoke first.

Jimmy's eyes fled instinctively to the medic van at the moment it's door flung open and Ben stumbled out. The other boy looked clearly distraught, and momentarily, Jimmy felt rapt with panic at what possible conversation Ben had with his father that sent him tearing from the medic van. A thousand possibilities flitted into mind, and each more horrible than the last, accusations and assaulted admissions. Jimmy wanted to go to Ben, his legs itched to move forward and his feet threatened to walk of their own accord, but those damned words, that dropped careless off Ben's tongue and caught thick and tacky in Jimmy's limbs, weighed him down and cemented him to the spot. Ben caught Jimmy's stare, a silent beckoning plea in his expression, and just as Jimmy felt entirely compelled to be with Ben – to hell with the words – a strange emotion touched Ben's features, a sort of shock lit with rage. He ripped his eyes away and stalked with a hasty gait out of sight.

"Guess things didn't go well with the old man," Roman commented, bemused.

"Shut up, Rome," Jimmy muttered, taking a last hit off his cigarette before tossing it and stamping it out in passing as he shuffled resignedly away.

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A/N: A bit of a spotlight on Gia in this chapter, she hasn't gotten much one-on-one face time I think. I should clarify, because it's not ever made obvious, at this point Doug and Gia are not technically in a romantic relationship. They both have feelings for one another, and their friends know it, and they both are kind of aware of the others' feelings, but neither one has actually made the first move yet. Not that it matters all that much. Also, last chapter Ben saw Jimmy and Rome and thought they'd been hanging out together, this chapter we learn that Jimmy was actually talking to Gia and Rome came over last minute at just the right time.

Let me know what you think!

Reviewers: WhisperMaw, I was so glad to see a couple reviews from you, I don't know how I missed replying. School went well, three A's and B, and yeah, I interned in the Zooarch lab at school, got three shiny credits for that too. I'm two semesters away from a Bachelors in Anthropology. It's not stupid to wait for chapters so you can read a marathon. I do feel bad that I haven't been able to update more frequently. I know, I suck. And yes, I know you've been eagerly anticipating Ryan. He will be in the story. And, if I make it far enough, he may even get a love interest. But it won't be who or how you expect. Caswiee, I'm glad to see you still reading also, though sorry to hear that your story hasn't progressed more. Writings harder than it looks, eh? It was a good idea, but good ideas are only a very, very small part of the process. Hopefully, you'll get inspiration some where. Maben00, hehe, yeah, Ben and Jimmy are in dire straits at the moment, poor boys. All hurting and sad, I wonder how I could possibly make things so much worse for them? I'll do my best! Sassysavanna190, I'm so happy to hear from you. Yes, hurting and pain all around, but it's good you're still enjoying. Holy hell, the gloves, I never connected those dots! That is a really good catch. I wonder if that was a director choice, or the actor...hm...Dee, my, my, yeah, I agree, Tom's a bit of a dreamer. Honestly, I never much liked how they executed his relationship with Ben, and maybe you'll see what I mean in later chapters when I delve more into the harness and how it affected his perception of his father. And also, don't be too mad at Jimmy, Roman kind of snuck up on him! See! But yes, Ben is definitely having those kinds of terrible thoughts. Yes, the vision/dream/flashback things are important. Hal sucked. And yes, be afraid, always be afraid. But keep reading, because it's never over until this fat lady sings. No wait, I sing all the time, scratch that. Just have faith in me. RemedyRay, well, I'm glad my story was one of the ones you checked in on in your return! We really are getting a lot of poor everyone in this story. Would you believe this isn't even half-way near the angst-iest thing I've ever written?

Thanks for stopping by you guys. See you all next Sunday!


	55. Chapter 55

A/N: Thank you to the reviewers, you guys are as awesome as ever!

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LV.

Not many fighters were on patrol that night. They'd moved into a lull, and the 2nd Mass felt foolishly safe. For Captain Weaver's part, he more or less intended to give his men as much rest as possible, taking advantage of their hard earned quiet to prep for whatever next big alien attack awaited them.

Ben ran the perimeter that night, practicing dodging patrols, staying under the radar, while working out the restless energy and constant rush of emotion coursing his veins. Besides, it wasn't as though he had much else to do. He finished up lap, well, he wasn't entire sure, twenty was the last number he could recall before he lost count, and then found a water source about a mile outside of camp to clean the sweat off his brow and neck.

Four days had passed.

Four days since Tom Mason, the prodigal father, returned to the 2nd Mass. Four days since Ben had laid his every emotion bare to Jimmy in an abandoned insurance company, only to have it all shoved nonchalantly back in his face. Who knew four days could feel so eternal?

There was a crunch of debris underfoot nearby and Ben scowled. Hal clearly thought he was sneaking up on Ben, and Ben let him move in close enough to launch his usual asshole older brother assault, which involved trapping Ben in a headlock and giving him the timeless 'noogie', before Ben spoke up.

"What's dad's status?"

There was a pause, a drawn out quiet.

"You know, it's a little creepy when you do that," Hal muttered complaint.

Ben scowled, kept his back to Hal, filling his palms with water and greedily sucking it down. Hal was obviously still upset about their last encounter, their argument over Matt learning to shoot and the subsequent physical altercation. It didn't escape Ben the implication in Hal's words as to what the creep factor was, Ben's alien genetics, and Ben couldn't help wondering how much of that translated into a kind of envy, superior athlete Hal Mason outmatched by his wimpy, dork of a little brother. If only Hal's old teammates could see them now.

"It's immature that you still think it's funny to sneak up on me in the middle of an intergalactic war," Ben returned sharply, standing and drying his hands off on his pants, and finally turning to face his older brother.

Hal had been returning from scout. He'd rolled his bike up towards Ben, left it parked several yards away, barely visible through the dark. Weaver estimated they were about three, maybe four more days outside of the hangar he'd chosen as their next temporary "safe haven", but they'd slowed their movement since finding Tom.

"Why is that? Because you might put a knife to my throat again?" Hal challenged, folding his arms over his chest and sizing Ben up.

It felt like a clean slap across the face, more so because Hal had no clue the level of truth he'd touched on. Ben smirked sardonic, dropped his eyes and shook his head, pushing past his brother back towards camp.

"We want to talk about that? You putting a knife to my throat?" Hal called question, and Ben came to a slow halt, "Or do we want to talk about you choking me out in front of Matt? You scared the hell out of him, you know that?"

"Kind of figured that out when he started avoiding me after it happened," Ben replied, grumbling, "He's not very good at it, though, should probably get pointers from Jimmy."

"Really? And since when does Jimmy avoid you? I thought you two were in a deep, meaningful relationship. People in deep, meaningful relationships don't avoid each other," Hal mused, though he sounded more dubious than caring.

Ben struggled against the hot surge of anger that shot straight to his head, balling his hands tightly into fists a moment, setting his jaw, then turning to face his brother. He kept his eyes focused on the area just past Hal's left shoulder; he knew he'd lose control if he looked right at that smug face.

"Why am I not surprised that something going on in my life is so beneath you, you can't even pretend to know about it?" Ben seethed, "Everyone else has noticed, hell, our nine year old brother has noticed that Jimmy can't stand to be within a fifty foot radius of me, everyone except you. Everything in your life is just so much more important that you can't bother, but please, please tell me right now, Hal, please tell me how you knew all along that this is what would happen, and that you told me so. Please, because I really need to hear that from _you _right now."

Hal loosened his stance, lowering his head a little, and to his credit, almost looked abashed. Ben snorted softly, scanned the surroundings in hopes it would dry the tears forming in his eyes.

"Ben, I didn't know," Hal started softly.

"Yeah, no shit."

"I'm sorry. I really am," Hal insisted, shook his head at the ground, "How…what happened," meekly attempted a joke, "You put a knife to his throat too?"

Ben winced, the memory of his confession to Jimmy suddenly afresh at the forefront of his mind. He hesitated, sharing that pain with his older brother seemed like the last thing he wanted to do at the moment, yet a strange part of him was dying to tell someone, anyone, about it and he thought maybe getting it out, unloading his burden a bit, might somehow ease his heartache.

"Sort of. I told him I loved him," Ben quietly confessed, and the verbal realization of everything that had happened instantly jolted through him. Nothing was ease. Instead, it just felt more real, somehow, now that someone else knew. A few tears strolled aimless down his cheeks and he rubbed them away.

"You did _what?_" Hal cried, incredulous, raking a hand through his hair in stun, "You haven't even been together two months. You don't drop the L-bomb that early in a relationship."

"It's how I feel. I'm not supposed to tell him how I feel?" Ben demanded, feeling hot and erratic. How did Hal manage condescending even when he was trying to help?

"Not when you've been together less than two months," Hal said, exasperated, rubbing his hands over his face, "Look, I know I don't know much about your situation, hell, the aliens invading changed a lot of rules as is, so I don't really know much about any situations now, but I know one thing for certain has always remained true: anyone would run for the hills from someone hurrying that word out so early on. There's a time frame for these kinds of things, Ben, shit, how do you not know that?"

"How the fuck would I know that?" Ben growled, though his rage was starting to die down a little, replaced by the overwhelming sorrow of his loss, "And what time frame? When exactly was I supposed to say it then?"

"Three months minimum," Hal said automatically and Ben made a face at him.

"Right. Okay, fine, I guess I never got the memo. But I said it. It's done and can't be changed. I fucked up," Ben grumbled, "Now what?"

"Well, what happened after you said it? What did he do? What did he say?" Hal questioned.

Ben dropped his eyes and shrugged, "Nothing."

"Nothing?" Hal repeated dumbly.

"He just turned and walked away," Ben whispered, grinding the keel of his hand under his eyes, smearing the unshed tears into oblivion as the scene playing through his mind's eye once more, a cold, numb feeling seeping through his body, "And that's it. I said something stupid and now he's gone."

"That doesn't necessarily mean he turned you down," Hal pointed out, "It's not a yes but it's not a no either."

"Really? Because it felt a hell of a lot like a no," Ben muttered.

"Maybe he just needs time. To think about it," Hal suggested, insisting, "Come on, Ben, you can't just give up. You know, it's not over until he asks for a restraining order."

"World ended, legal infrastructure collapsed, there's no courts to issue a restraining order," Ben muttered off-handedly.

"Which only works to your advantage," Hal said light-heartedly, Ben smirked somewhat, and Hal cleared his throat, casually wondered, "So when did that all happen?"

"After I shot dad, later that day," Ben murmured, sighing, "This sucks. I really just thought that…I don't know maybe I was being stupid, hopeful, but I kind of thought he might feel the same and...and he didn't, doesn't…I don't know, so now I'm just..."

"I'm not convinced he doesn't," Hal interjected, brow furrowed together, "Couple days ago, after I caught you teaching Matt to shoot, he practically ripped my head off about going easier on you. You don't defend a person the way he did if you don't feel _something_ for them."

"I don't know," Ben said, fidgeting somewhat with the buckle of his knife sheath, "He cares about me. I know that. I'm not worried about that…"

"Listen, he's young, you both are," Hal started, "He's probably just scared, confused. These are tough emotions and this has got to be the first time he's ever really dealt with this stuff and it's not exactly easy to figure out once you've been around the block a few times, believe me."

"Yeah, I guess," Ben relented. They fell silent a few seconds, and Ben noted, "You handled this conversation better than I thought you would."

"What are you talking about? I'm an expert at this," Hal teased, clapping Ben heartily on the shoulder and half-grinning, "And I'm excited. My little brother's in love. It's…uh…it's cute. A little weird. Jimmy's not a bad choice though, right? I don't really know for sure, that's not my area of expertise…I sort of feel like you could do better. Could you do better?"

"No one is better than him," Ben stubbornly whispered and then cautiously asked, "Have you ever…did you ever think you were…in love before?"

"Uh…yeah, once or twice," Hal admitted, shrugging and admitting, "I kind of thought that…I never said anything, but, well, I sort of felt like, maybe…Karen…"

"Hal," Ben interrupted, eyes darting up at movement through the dark, "Your bike."

"What?"

Hal spun round, just as the engine of his bike roared to life, an unfamiliar figure straddling its chassis, and shooting off into the night. The Mason brothers gaped blankly at the empty road it retreated down.

"Who the hell was that?" Hal roared, smacking Ben's shoulder suddenly, "Why didn't you say something?"

"I did," Ben protested, "What? I didn't notice until it was too late."

"Great. What do we do now?" Hal griped.

"We?"

"This is sort of your fault. What good is that super hearing of yours if you only use it to keep _me_ from sneaking up on you?" Hal demanded.

Ben rolled his eyes, and filtered out his brother's whining, listening for the roar of the engine. It was already dying out, less than half a mile down the road.

"Fine. Let's go. They stopped a little east of here," Ben said, striking forward towards the sounds of the bike puttering to a halt.

"How do you know that?" Hal questioned.

Ben offered him a dumbstruck look, "Weren't you _just_ complaining about how I need to put my super hearing to good use?"

…

Dr. Glass had gone to check on a few other patients around the 2nd Mass still sporting injuries from the community center attack when Jimmy crept anxiously into the medic-van. It looked at first like Professor Mason might be sleeping, lying on a cot with his face turned away, so Jimmy began tiptoeing back out, but stumbled against a box of supplies on his way, making a bit of ruckus and causing the professor to startle, sitting up slightly, and turning to look at Jimmy.

"Hi," Jimmy mouthed, stiffly raised his hand up as though to wave, realized how awkward it looked, and quickly dropped it back to his side.

"Jimmy? Is that you?" Professor Mason whispered greeting, straightening as best he could and grunting with the effort. Many of the injuries he'd come to camp with were nearly healed, but the bullet wound obviously still smarted.

"Sorry, Professor Mason, I didn't mean to…" Jimmy mumbled, edging forward a step, then back two more, ducking his head, and peeking up at the older man through loose strands of shaggy hair, "I wanted to see how you were doing. I'm sorry I woke you..."

"Oh, no, I wasn't sleeping," Professor Mason said, motioning Jimmy to a chair as he rubbed the exhaustion from his features, "Bored out of my mind though. Sit down. Keep me company for a minute."

Tentatively, Jimmy crept across the room and took a seat. He eyed Professor Mason uncertainly, his heart rapidly pounding against his chest. He wasn't entirely sure what possessed him to pay the professor a visit, partly dying of curiosity at what Ben had spoken with his father about days before that seemed to rile Ben up so much, partly a desperate need to feel close to Ben, no matter how indirect, without having to face those damnable words.

"I haven't seen my sons much since I got back. You'd almost think I wasn't abducted by aliens," Professor Mason joked, though it sounded more like he was saying it to himself than Jimmy. Jimmy leaned forward, arms braced across his knees, and he chewed his inner cheek ragged with anxiousness.

"They worried about you, while you were gone," he assured the professor.

"I regret doing that to them. Leaving them," Professor Mason turned his head to the side, carefully prodded his bandages, tears welling in his eyes, "I just needed to…to protect my son. I'm sorry. Anne has me on so many painkillers right now, I'm having trouble maintaining myself. How are you, Jimmy?"

"I'm okay," Jimmy closed his eyes, tried to believe the lie himself. Cold rippled through him, nausea turned his stomach. His hands were trembling and he didn't know why.

"Anything exciting happen while I was gone?" Professor Mason asked.

"Not really," Jimmy answered, smirking up at the professor, "Just the same old. Aliens are still here, we're still at war. Oh, wait, someone had a baby, I think."

"Anne mentioned it," Professor Mason confirmed, tipping his head forward, screwing his eyes in a funny expression that prompted Jimmy to straighten, wrinkle his brow in concern, "I talked to Ben a couple days ago."

Panic immediately set in and Jimmy prepped himself to bolt for the door.

"Anne told me he's doing alright but…" Professor Mason trailed off, sighed, and touched his fingertips to his forehead, "I'm sorry. You're his age, you always remind me of him."

Jimmy forced a small smile, ignored the pang of hurt at that admission. He'd always known Professor Mason, all the Masons for that matter, were just a little kinder to him than other children in the 2nd Mass because, in a way, he recalled their missing son. Lost and alone.

Like with Hal, when Ben returned, things grew awkward between Jimmy and Professor Mason. Jimmy was no longer needed to fill the gaping hole in their hearts that Ben left behind, which meant he really didn't have a place in their family anymore. It was fine, he had told himself, he needed the reminder that his life had little worth beyond the bullets he put in Skitter heads. Which didn't number very many at the time. Things were different though, if not a little more awkward, now that Ben wanted to drag Jimmy back into his family, carve out a place for him.

"I'm worried about him though. I know you and Ben weren't really getting along when I left," Professor Mason said, and Jimmy shifted uncomfortably. He'd forgotten about that, it seemed so far in the past, a distant memory, those days when Ben was the unharnessed other and Jimmy wanted nothing to do with him, "But maybe you'll know better than Anne. You and him are close in age and you speak to the other kids around camp, right?"

"A little."

"How is Ben doing? Do you know? Is he getting along with others? Has he made friends, at least?"

Jimmy slumped slightly, studied his boots a moment. He flashed briefly on Ben's expression after those words tumbled into dead air, features expectant and apprehensive, only to wash away into utter defeat as Jimmy let seconds of silence tick by.

"Some people are nice to him, I guess," Jimmy murmured, paused, and confessed, "Most people aren't."

"Right. I suppose that's to be expected," Professor Mason scoffed, rubbing the agitation from his brow.

"We, Ben and me, we aren't really getting along right now, either," Jimmy sheepishly admitted.

"I'm disappointed to hear that," Professor Mason said, laying back against the bed once more, staring up at the ceiling and Jimmy could feel the older man's words frosting over, "I'd really hoped that you and he would figure out a way to get along while I was gone. I know you don't really owe me anything, and that respect's never been your strongest trait, but he is my son…"

"No, that's not what I mean," Jimmy hastily cut in, then dropped his voice again and mumbled, "I don't know what I mean. Forget it."

"Is everything alright?" Professor Mason questioned, lifting himself slightly to glance at Jimmy, concern passing over his eyes at the strange tone in Jimmy's voice.

"Yes," Jimmy answered, shook his head, "No. I don't know."

"What's wrong, Jimmy?" Professor Mason pressed.

"Nothing. The aliens…what was it like? What did they do to you?" Jimmy questioned, peeking up at the professor, trying not to look for the similarities with Ben in those wizened facial features.

"I really shouldn't talk about it with you," Professor Mason replied, taking a deep, trembling breath, "It's not something you need to concern yourself with anyways. I don't want you thinking about the aliens, and what they're capable of. I want you to think about keeping out of their reach, keeping yourself safe and healthy, alive. Let the adults worry about it."

"I have to worry about it, though. The aliens are a part of everything in my life," Jimmy countered.

"Not everything."

"Yes, everything. Everything and everyone. The aliens took my past, and my entire future is going to be determined by them," Jimmy returned sharply.

"You'll determine your future," Professor Mason argued, struggling to sitting again, "I don't like that you're talking this way. My own son thinks the answer to getting through this war is obsessing over the aliens. Jimmy, you've got to focus on the other things in life, try to salvage what parts of it have nothing to do with…"

"You really believe that?" Jimmy challenged, "Every choice I have involves the fucking aliens in some way, they're genetically entwined with the most important parts of my life, for Christ's sake, there's no getting around them. I wish it were easier, but it's not. I wish I had a future to think about, but I'm not sure anyone, least of all me, has a future to think about. And I really wish I knew who was actually in control, but does it actually change anything, if it's real or not? In the end the aliens are still here, it's still going to hurt either way and I still have promises to keep."

"What are you talking about? What's going on with you?" Professor Mason gently questioned.

"I don't know. I'm sorry. I don't know what I'm talking about. A lot's happened recently," Jimmy shook his head, burying his face in a palm, searching for an excuse, "We got hit really hard a few weeks ago. A lot of people died. A lot of kids."

"I heard," Professor Mason whispered, "Anne's family…"

"Ben was there," Jimmy supplied, shifting and sniffling, "He saw Uncle Scott…"

"I didn't know that part," Professor Mason softly noted.

"Tell me something about him," Jimmy prompted, swallowing back the emotion cracking in his voice. Professor Mason perked a brow, confused who Jimmy meant, and Jimmy clarified, "Ben. From before the aliens…before the war…and the harness…"

"Why would you…?"

"I just do," Jimmy murmured, lowering his head and picking at the dirt around and under his fingernails.

Professor Mason studied Jimmy, considered his request a painfully silent moment, before speaking again.

"I'm not sure what you'd want to hear about," Professor Mason started, settling back and closing his eyes, "He wasn't much different from any other teenage boy, I guess. He worked hard in school, hung out with his friends, struggled with girls."

Jimmy smirked distantly, ignored the odd pang in his chest, absently nibbled his inner cheek. Professor Mason sighed heavily, memories and distant heartaches flooding back to him.

"I think he felt like life was harder for him than everyone else in the world, in some ways, he might've been right. You probably can relate with the feeling that no one in the world understands, it's a teenager universal," Professor Mason continued, "If I tried to help, he'd push me away. Though, to be honest, Hal was the more difficult of the two."

Another brief pause as Professor Mason attempted to recollect himself.

"But I worried about Ben more," he confessed, cleared his throat and quietly relinquished, "I guess I still do. Rebekah and I tried to treat all of our sons as equally as possible, but, and when you have children of your own one day you'll understand this, they aren't the same and, unfortunately, they're not always equal in everything. Sometimes Ben wanted more from life than he was capable of handling, and it really got to him whenever he'd come up just short."

"He's more than capable now," Jimmy commented, trying to imagine a Ben that didn't more from life. Ben consumed the world, he was insatiable, unstoppable. It's one of the things that Jimmy liked about the other boy. As if there was anything Jimmy didn't like.

"He never knew his limits when he was severely limited," Professor Mason said, "An it scares me so much now that he's far less limited. You have no idea."

"I guess," Jimmy murmured, tentatively climbing to his feet and edging towards the exit, "I should go. You should probably sleep. Be sleeping."

"Can I ask why you're suddenly so interested in my son?" Professor Mason asked as though forgetting entirely the several months that had passed between the boys in his absence.

"Oh. I…uh…was just making conversation," Jimmy stammered lie, taking a few small steps towards the door.

"Right," Professor Mason accepted, then wondered, "Why is it that you two are having such trouble getting along?

Jimmy stumbled down the first step out of the medic van, barely catching himself against the counter, a small, startled gasp escaping his lip.

"No particular reason," he hastily excused, pushed open the door, hesitated, his voice small, and quaking, "They're a part of everything in his life too."

"What's that?" Professor Mason called after as Jimmy slipped out the van, door clacking shut behind him.

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AN: Not entirely pleased with this chapter, but, eh, what am going to do. Right, I should probably remind you all here, because we're jumping ahead to events in later episodes, that I warned earlier I would be changing cannon events around all willy-nilly. Because I'm the writer, and there are things I wanted to happen in the show that didn't, like you know, Jimmy to live and have a sweet, deep and meaningful relationship with Ben, as they slowly learn about themselves and each other in a post-apocalyptic world. Can't have everything we want, I guess, I'll settle for candy.

I'm on my dinky netbook right now, my PC is in critical condition at the moment. GFX card's life is slowly flickering out, but fret not, my sister has one she can lend me if the warranty on my is over. And no one cares. Moving on.

Please let me know what you think of the chapter! Review, review, review!

Speaking of reviews: SassySavanna190, tolerating or supporting Ben/Jimmy's relationship seems to be the deciding factor for most readers as to whether a character is likable or not. And yes, of course there's a good side to Ben. He's the hero of the story., Gia just said so Unless you believe creepy blonde vision chick, which you shouldn't. typhoonboom08, I'm glad Gia's got a little bit of love from your corner. As I've said before, none of the unharnessed kids are bad, maybe just misguided. Though, I doubt I'll convince anyone on Roman. Maybe...no. Don't worry, when the boys reconcile this time, there should be several chapters of relaxed content...or as relaxed as I get, before I screw things up with them again. Maben00, but making you cry is exactly why I do it. Kidding. Sort of. Stirring emotions in the readers is always my agenda in writing a story. I want you to feel something or I'm not doing my job right. That you're constantly surprised by my chapters is perhaps the best compliment I've ever received on my writing, thank you! And I know exactly what you mean about wanting more Ben/Jimmy stories, though, admittedly, I don't read much fanfiction anymore. I know that WhisperMaw has some good stories for the pairing, and FacePalmer123, and Cal MacDonald (which is Greg's penname), and EWookie (I think is the penname, I've seen popping up some stories). If you haven't read their's yet, go check them out. I can't guarantee all of them are good, I haven't actually read most of their stories, but they're Ben/Jimmy so...support the cause! Dee, some good thoughts and questions. Gia, Roman, Doug and Kelsey are supposed to be the others that were rescued and unharnessed with Ben, the events Gia is talking about are what led to them being harnessed, so it would have happened before Ben rejoined his family and was saved by the 2nd Mass. It's not so much that they blame him, as they aren't entirely convinced he's free of the aliens' control. I'm glad Gia has won you over a little. Her "slip of the tongue" about Roman's crush really was just that, she's sort of got a big mouth and is a bit of gossip if you hadn't noticed in past chapters. Can't keep a secret to save her life. I'm sorry, Roman and his feelings for Jimmy are really not going away anytime soon. But where would the fun be if they did, right? :D And that's an interesting insight into Roman's possible motivations, his not entirely being sure he hates Ben for Ben killing his grandmother. Very interesting...WhisperMaw, always a pleasure to get a review from you! You may be the only one that doesn't outright hate Roman, which is very awesome. I had to reread that sentence in all caps several times, and I'm still not entirely sure what you meant by it. I'm going to go with it's referring to the "I love you" chapter, and say, yup, exactly the emotions I was hoping to make you feel. Yup, I love me angst. Doug will probably be getting a chapter to shine, story is far from over. Eventually Ben and Jimmy will make up, eventually. I can't rip their hearts out and smear all over the floor until they do. There's an evil laugh accompanying that.

And that was far longer than I thought it would be. See you all next Sunday! You all rock and junk.


	56. Chapter 56

AN: Thanks for the reviews everyone. You guys are awesome.

Greg is probably annoyed with me right about now. I'm so far behind on chapters, I'm writing them the week of update, which mean I haven't been able to send to him for beta-ing. Hopefully I can finish next Sunday's chapter tonight and get it sent to him...get back on track.

Right, get to reading.

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LVI.

A group of civilians were gathered in a large circle, telling ghost stories, trying to take their minds off the dangers lurking just beyond the camps perimeter by scaring themselves over dangers in the shadows cast by the fire light. Jimmy sat at the far edge of the group, half-listening, majority of his attention on the outskirts of camp, scanning for any sign of Ben. He'd wandered several tens of minutes around camp looking for the other boy, before finally caving in and asking Matt.

_Does this mean you forgive him? _Matt had innocently inquired which stung a little. Jimmy had figured Ben would be feeling gloomy over their separation, but not that he would think Jimmy was mad at him. Matt didn't know where Ben was, and Jimmy decided that, factoring in the super hearing, only one of two things was logical: either the tides had turned and Ben was avoiding Jimmy or Ben wasn't in camp.

Regardless, Jimmy gave up the search and joined the civilian pow-wow. Sort of. If anything, he could be thought more of as an observer, watching them enjoy themselves while he thought of his own sordid situation. He wasn't sure he felt ready to confront Ben, or those words, but he was certainly ready to feel Ben's presence again, that familiar scent and warmth, to kiss and be kissed by Ben, to touch and talk. Jimmy sighed, he hated himself for it, regardless, he thought it might be alright if he was only admitting it to himself, but, Jesus Christ, he missed Ben. He'd hit the threshold, he couldn't take his own self-imposed isolation from the other boy anymore. It just seemed appropriate that he wouldn't be able to find Ben now that he wanted to.

Maggie plopped down in the seat next to Jimmy and they sat in silence several seconds, then Jimmy sighed and she slipped an arm over his shoulders, settled comfortably beside him.

"No," he mumbled.

"I didn't ask anything," she said. It sounded as though she were laughing at him and she probably was.

"I don't want to talk about it," he told her. She gave him a small squeeze and he relaxed against her, scowling at the dirt covered ground, hating that it felt good to be mothered by her, even if it was only for that second, even if it never meant more than a second.

"Dr. Glass says that Tom should be up and about by tomorrow, day after at the latest," Maggie said conversationally.

"That's good."

"I'm sure the brothers will be relieved," Maggie continued.

"I bet Dai'll be relieved," Jimmy put in. They both chuckled at the thought of their poor friend, desperate to get back on the frontlines and out of the commander's seat.

"Do you really think Weaver will put Tom back as acting second?" Maggie wondered.

Jimmy shrugged, slumped forward in his seat, toyed subconsciously with the compass around his neck. He'd seen the captain infrequently over the past day or two, maybe glimpsed the older man in passing, but little more. Weaver was a busy man, and Jimmy just a soldier in his company. It was better Jimmy stay out of Weaver's way when he could, be as little burden as possible, if he wanted to maintain his position as a fighter.

"Probably," Jimmy admitted, "He'll want everyone to know he supports Professor Mason, believes in him, and that the aliens can't get to us like that, and you know, try and keep panic to a minimum, right? Best way to do that is give him his old job back."

"From what I hear, not many around camp would be happy of a decision like that," Maggie countered.

"Since when does Weaver make decisions based on how happy it makes everyone?" Jimmy returned, smirking up at her and she ruffled his hair absently. He made a face, and darted his eyes back to the fringe of camp at a flash of movement, heart jumping hopeful, then falling at the sight of a pair of patrollers waltzing into camp.

"I saw him leave a couple hours ago," Maggie said, and Jimmy didn't respond, "He didn't have his rifle with him. I think he was just going for a walk."

"More likely a run," Jimmy replied, lowering his eyes and folding his hands over each other, softly explaining, "He runs to kill the energy. Otherwise he gets restless. It's too much."

"You're worried about it," Maggie noted, creasing her brow, "Has it gotten worse?"

Subconsciously, Jimmy traced his fingers over his forearm.

"I don't know what to do," he confessed, "It's overwhelming him sometimes…I think…and I can't help him. No one can."

"Did he talk to Dr. Glass?" Maggie asked.

"No. Not really. Does it matter? He says she can't do anything, that it's a waste of hers and his time, and he's right," Jimmy replied, sinking heavily forward and shaking his head at the ground, "I tell him we'll figure it out, but I'm…" He bit his tongue on the confession, ran a hand over his weary features, "I'm not so sure."

"It can't hurt to keep her updated," Maggie suggested. She shifted slightly, moved Jimmy closer to herself, commented nonchalantly, "There's a rumor going around camp that you and Ben have split up."

Jimmy snorted softly, turned his cheek to her.

"Now I know it's just a rumor," Maggie went on, skimming the group of civilians telling stories, "Because you wouldn't be so calm if it was true, but I can't help wondering if _he_ knows that it's just a rumor."

Jimmy darted a curious glance Maggie's direction and she took the cue to further clarify.

"Hal and Ben had a confrontation the other day," she said, took a slow breath, "And things got violent."

"I heard," Jimmy conceded.

"I saw," Maggie returned, paused a moment to consider her words, then continued, "He had Hal around the neck, Jimmy. When you say the alien side is overwhelming him sometimes…"

Jimmy straightened, wrenched himself from Maggie's hold, and hastily lied, "No, that's not what I meant."

Maggie folded her arms across her chest, raised a brow.

"I can't believe that you would think, like everyone else, that Ben is still under the aliens' control, that he can't be trusted," Jimmy cried, "How could you betray him like that?"

"Jimmy, I'm not," Maggie maintained, "I don't believe the aliens are controlling Ben, not even in the slightest."

"You don't?" Jimmy whispered, mildly surprised. Maggie furrowed her brow.

"Do you?" she asked.

Jimmy shook his head, dropped his eyes to the ground.

"He said he…that he…um…he loved…me," he stiltedly confessed, that disjointing word catching in his throat and coming out a decibel below a whisper. He bit hard into his inner cheek, drew blood.

"Jimmy, that's great," Maggie gushed.

"Not if the aliens are controlling him."

Maggie burst out laughing. Jimmy scowled, and she waved her hand at him apologetically.

"Oh come on! 'The aliens made him do it'? Please, and what would be their end game? Their devious plan, travel millions of light years across several galaxies, to another planet, all to play with the emotions of a teenage boy," Maggie teased.

"Mags," Jimmy groaned, slumping and making a face up at her.

Maggie straightened her features, wrinkling her nose at him.

"I'm sorry," she said, her attempt at earnestness ruined by a barely muffled giggle, and Jimmy folded his arms across his chest, pulled away from her, "No, seriously, I am sorry. But you have to admit, it's kind of a funny..."

"Forget it," Jimmy grumbled, readying to leave but Maggie grabbed hold of his wrist.

"Oh, you sit down. Talk to me," Maggie insisted, and Jimmy plopped back down, though he held himself away from her so she knew he wasn't thrilled with her reaction, "What is with you? This should a big deal. You should be excited!"

"Why?" Jimmy demanded. It was difficult enough confiding his general thoughts and emotions in another but Ben's confession was more personal. Though Maggie tended to be the exception, it seemed this time Jimmy had severely misjudged. He felt as though he'd been punched through the gut trusting her with it.

"Well, normally, people like when their boyfriend tells them something like that," Maggie carefully explicated.

"There's nothing normal about this," Jimmy pointed out and Maggie drew her breath in sharp, let it out in a heavy sigh.

"Yeah, I suppose there are a few things out of the ordinary about the situation," she conceded, "But that's no reason to not be happy about it. Unless…"

Maggie scrutinized Jimmy for a brief second and he fidgeted uncomfortably beside her.

"You do feel the same about him, don't you?" she wondered.

Jimmy shrugged, dropped his eyes.

"Jimmy," Maggie breathed a sigh and Jimmy tensed, scowled miserable at the ground.

"I care about him," he affirmed, "I just don't know if I…if I even can…forget it. I don't know."

"What did you tell him? When he said it?" Maggie asked gently, concern rippling through her features. She was worried about Ben, it was apparent, but there was something else in her expression that put Jimmy on edge.

Again, Jimmy shrugged, remained silent.

"Jimmy…" she pressed.

"Nothing. I told him nothing," he mumbled.

"Oh. Okay."

"But what was I supposed to say?" Jimmy ranted, "How did he expect me to respond to something like that? I don't know how I feel! I'm still trying to wrap my head around the alien invasion, for Christ's sake, and my entire family being gone."

"I'm sure he didn't expect you to say it back," Maggie told Jimmy, tone placating, "He probably just wanted you to know."

"No, what he wanted was some bullshit to feed his dad," Jimmy blurted out, then clamped his mouth shut so forcefully he bit a tiny chunk of flesh out of his tongue.

"What does Tom have to do with it?" Maggie questioned.

"Nothing."

Maggie perked a brow

"It's nothing," Jimmy insisted, shaking his head at the ground.

They fell silent. Jimmy was overly aware of Maggie staring at him, studying him, and he flustered, swallowed back harsh words and fought the urge to run for it. Then Maggie turned, put her arm back around Jimmy's shoulders, and after a couple seconds, she drew him into a partial embrace.

"You're too hard on yourself, kid," she noted.

"I don't know what to say to him," Jimmy whispered, "I don't know how to make this go away or get things back the way they were between us."

"I can tell you right now, it's not going away," Maggie informed him, "But things don't have to change between the two of you because of it."

Jimmy grunted, unconvinced, and rubbed a hand across his face, "Why can't this be easier?"

"Nothing worth having is ever easy," Maggie stated matter-of-factly.

"Did you read that in a fortune cookie?"

"Inspirational poster on the wall of a social worker's office, actually."

They exchanged a wry smile.

…

As they crept through the dark up towards a ruinous warehouse building of some kind, Ben started to think that maybe it would've been better to just let the bike go. Sure, the 2nd Mass was hurting for resources, especially after the incident at the community center, but a person willing to sneak through the dead of night and steal a bike right out from under a pair of armed young men reeked of desperation. A trait that became painfully more apparent the closer the brothers crept to the culprit and the only sounds Ben could hear were the muffled voices of very obviously young children.

Of course, all things taken into consideration, Hal was only just nearing the end of his teen years, and Ben, embarrassingly enough, had only barely passed puberty a month ago maybe. Children could be as dangerous, if not more so, than adults in that alien infested world. Hal handed off his rifle to Ben, signaled Ben to move around back and that he would slip in to confront their thieves.

Ben wordlessly acknowledged the instructions, shouldering the rifle and maneuvering deftly through the alley around the back side of the warehouse. He found a door and creaked it open, nosing the rifle barrel inside first, and cautiously slinking in behind it. He gently set the door back into place, and ghosted down a poorly lit hallway.

Deeper inside, there were at least ten voices vying for attention, most of which couldn't be attributed to anyone older than twelve, maybe thirteen. The eldest of the group sounded like a boy and girl, maybe late teens, from their comments they were clearly the authority of the group, mom and dad, so to speak. How very traditional of them, Ben noted bemusedly. They were discussing what to do next, stay put despite having used up all supplies viable for looting in the area or head into the woods and try their hand at Lord of the Flies style survival, meanwhile the children fought over who would get to ride the bike.

Ben found a way up into an overhang in the rafters. He eased himself into place, scanned the main room. His head count guesstimate wasn't too far off, there were eight in the room. Majority, as he had already gathered, barely pushing pre-adolescence, the youngest appeared to be around seven or eight. From the looks of things, they salvaged what they could from nearby buildings. Moldy furnishings crowded the interior, resembling a makeshift fort. In the center of the room, an older boy and girl, maybe fifteen or sixteen, sat on a couch draped comfortably across one another, flirting and making doe eyes at each other in a way that turned Ben's stomach, immediately shoving Jimmy to the forefront of his mind.

The older boy put an end to the children's arguing by declaring he would, of course, be the one riding the bike and that he'd pick one of the lot to join him while the rest were traveling on foot with the older girl. Jeanne, he called her.

Ben glimpsed Hal moving into the room, and lined the pack leader up in his sight as Hal announced his arrival, holding his hands up as a signal he came in peace.

"Actually, I'll be the one riding the bike."

The group startled, some froze and panicked while others scrambled for weapons they had no hopes of reaching before Ben could take them out, and Hal drew their attention to that, whistling and pointing out the sniper in the rafters.

"Who the hell are you?" the older boy demanded. He'd rose to his feet, his girlfriend moving towards the children, putting herself between the youngest members in their group and the intruders in their midst.

"I'm the guy whose bike you ripped off," Hal calmly answered, keeping his voice steady so the other boy knew he wasn't afraid but as non-threatening as possible, keeping aware of the frightened children in the room, he said, "Look, we don't want to hurt anyone, we just want our bike back. Let's start over, okay? My name is Hal, and that up there is my brother, Ben. What are your names?"

The older boy considered Hal. Though he put on an expression of relaxation, he kept his body tense, shoulders drawn back. His eyes were sharp, flickering back and forth between the brothers. His girlfriend held back one of the younger children by the elbow, a boy about eleven or twelve that looked more gutsy than wise. The younger boy kept taking a step towards a pistol nearby, but Jeanne would draw him back, dart a look up at Ben to determine if he'd caught the boy's intentions. Ben had, but he ignored both of them, keeping his rifle sight locked on the older boy, lined up for a clean headshot. He had a hunch if he dropped the ring leader, the others would fall in line with no problem, erstwhile Ben tried to shake the eerie feeling his own rationale left him with and the knowledge that he could pull that trigger easily and wasn't entirely sure if he'd feel much remorse in taking the life.

"Diego," the boy finally said, reluctantly biting his own name out as though he were spitting fire at Hal.

Hal nodded, glanced over the room, "It's just you two and the children here? Where are all the adults? Parents or…?"

"Our parents are dead," one of the little girls spoke up, and Jeanne hurriedly hushed her.

"Only thing adults are good for is getting us kids killed," Diego added, shook his head and explained bitterly, "They see us as vulnerability. The aliens are after kids, to put those things on them, control them or whatever, right? So they think if they get rid of any and all kids, ditch us or worse, that they'll be safe."

Ben flinched inwardly, again thought of Jimmy, a strange pain aching through him at the implications rushing to mind. Jimmy had made strange comments out at the grocery center weeks back, about the cruelty of adults in their post apocalyptic war, and then there were the stories Weaver told Ben, about Jimmy first joining the 2nd Mass. Ben hated knowing the hardships Jimmy had suffered in his past, but Ben hated more not knowing, and if there was one thing Jimmy seemed particularly keen on, it was keeping Ben from knowing things about his past.

And there in lie a disquieting connection to Ben's confession and Jimmy's unwillingness to respond. Jimmy put painstaking effort into keeping Ben at arm's length. He gave Ben as few details about himself as possible, his outright refusal to even consider telling Tom and his disapproval of others around camp knowing about their relationship, his seeming eagerness to end things as swiftly and cleanly as they'd started at the first opportunity, all added up to a very ominous possibility: the relationship didn't mean anything to Jimmy and he wanted it, probably even liked it that way.

"Not all adults think like that," Hal replied, "My brother and I are part of a resistance unit. Plenty of those in our group are children; they're cared for and protected by the adults."

"Did you happen to bring a brochure with that sales pitch," Diego dryly remarked.

"We're not interested in joining up," Jeanne said, "We do fine on our own."

"Surviving by sneaking around and stealing from others who are only trying to survive themselves," Hal scoffed.

"Kill or be killed," Diego replied sharply.

"I see that's working out well for you," Hal muttered, snorting lightly at their hovel of a hide-out, "I can hear the younger ones' stomachs all grumbling. And when's the last time any of you have had clean water to drink? Not to mention, medicine. I can tell from over here that one has a fever."

Jeanne placed a hand on the head of the small child cowering behind her, and Ben's eyes flew to the little one, mentally cursing himself. He'd missed it, but Hal was right, the boy's cheeks were flush and skin sallow. The tiny thing, willowy and frail looking, leaned against Jeanne's back, hid his face in the cloth of her jacket.

"We have a doctor back at our camp. You don't have to join up with us, but at least let us help you out," Hal persisted.

"And why exactly would you want to do that?" Diego growled, warily glaring at the other boy.

"Because unlike you, we survive by taking care of our own," Hal replied, "And saving our energy to fight the real enemy. The aliens. So here's the deal, in exchange for a bit of food, our doctor looking at your friend there, we get our bike back and part ways, no hard feelings. Sound reasonable to you?"

"It sounds like a trap," one of the children hissed to Diego.

Diego turned to examine the sick little boy, carefully considering the offer before him. He met Jeanne's eyes, silent conversation passing between them, and after a few seconds, she tipped her chin and he reeled round back to leering at Hal.

"Okay, fine. Jeanne, Will, Julian, and me will go back with you to your camp. The rest of you stay here. Johnny," Diego said, and the boy who'd been attempting to edge towards the pistol perked, "You're in charge until we get back."

Although Hal gave Ben the signal they were clear, Ben waited until the group had split according to Diego's instructions before slipping down from the rafters and out the back once more. He met his brother and the other four out front. They'd wheeled out Hal's bike, as well as a jeep. Hal was speaking with Diego and Jeanne, the two younger boys had crawled into the jeep's back and watched as Ben approached.

"I'll head into the 2nd Mass first, let them know company is coming for dinner," Hal said, "You ride with them, make sure they don't get lost."

Ben took a small step closer to Hal, dropped his voice low and questioned, "Why can't I head back first and you ride with them?"

One of the younger boys made a noise, like a gasp, from the jeep and Ben peeked back, caught what the little one noticed, and scowled, turning self-consciously so the spikes jutting from his neck were out of sight.

"Uh…it's my bike," Hal offered up justification, oblivious to the stares Ben was getting from both little boys now. He lightly slapped Ben's shoulder and teased, "Unless you're really that eager to get back to being avoided by Jimmy, lover boy."

Ben rolled his eyes and groaned, "I should've never told you..."

Hal straddled his bike and kicked off, as Ben climbed into the back of the jeep, keeping a comfortable distance from the two younger ones staring at him in a strange awe. Diego and Jeanne took the front seat.

"If this is a trap, we'll kill you first," Diego informed Ben in a conversational tone.

Ben looked over the group. Julian was the sick boy; he leaned heavy in the back and looked at Ben with wide, owlish eyes. Will hovered over Julian, about Matt's age, bony and malnourished, face smudged with dirt. Jeanne looked strong enough, for a fleeting moment, the cut of her jaw and steely glint in her eye reminded Ben, oddly enough, of the captain. Diego tugged a hand gun from the glove compartment, set it on the dash for show. Ben lay Hal's rifle across his lap, traced his fingers over the hilt of a knife he'd used to slay Skitters that night and smirked inwardly. Hal's earlier advice came to mind, _you can't just give up_, and it seemed to strike Ben then, he hadn't realized when it happened, somewhere between the alien abduction and being the only one that could rush into battle armed with little more than a knife, but at some point he'd become a fighter.

"You're certainly welcome to try."

And fighters didn't surrender.

* * *

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AN: And there is Diego and Jeanne. Not entirely sure how they're going to play into the next several chapters, though I'm wondering if anyone can guess how Jeanne is going to play on Jimmy's psyche. once again, couldn't remember exactly how the actual scene played out, so I made it up a bit, and of course, things are going to be different anyhow because no Compass events yet.

Let me know what you all think.

Reviewers: Maben00, bwahahahahaha, yeah, that "cliffhanger" was nothing compared to things that are coming up. I don't blame you for being a Ben/Jimmy junky, they are kind of ridiculously adorable together. And they make for great inspiration, I have like three other stories in my mind featuring their pairing. Not that I'll write all of them, but whatever. FacePalmer123, ah, gracias, senorita. Fluffy feels, eh? Working on it. I promise, they'll have fluffy moments. TyphoonBoom08, lol, that's a good catch, I hadn't even connected those two scenes. Yeah, Jimmy's a terse fella, operates on a need to know, meaning, you don't need to know everything, just enough to alarm you. Yes, Hal, I like writing brother-bonding crap, to be honest, but like you said, post-apocalyptic war can't change everything. IcicleLilly, yay, glad you thought so. I'm nervous about how my version of Tom will be received. 2nd Mass is going to travel to some crazy places, some familiar, most not at all. Thanks for dropping by. Dee, dear, you do an amazing job analyzing the characters. I love it. Glad you peeked at Falling Snow, not my favorite bit of writing, but I wrote it in a week or so, so, yeah, I think I can be forgiven for anything that sucked in it. Yeah, Hal and Ben bonding moments are always fun. You know, he wants Ben to be happy, but not too happy he forget their in the middle of a war. And I like to pick on Jimmy, I don't know why. I try picking on Ben more, but Jimmy always gets the shorter end of the stick. Oh well, yes, he's all kinds of broken. And is that soon enough on meeting Jeanne and Diego? I kind of wonder where I'm taking this too. I kid, I know where we're going...I have a map somewhere...Yes, Ryan will definitely be in this story, as well as Gary, and we'll learn the fates of Lenny and Kevin, somewhat. Of course you know, that's all I can say on that matter. Yeah, I don't really have any interest whatsoever in continuing watching the show, especially since I've been writing this. I have a hard time watching something I write fanfic for if it's still ongoing. I typically only write fanfic for completed works that I didn't feel explored enough of the characters, or left me unsatisfied, but the Falling Skies writers had to go and kill off Jimmy and now I can't watch the damn show anymore. Bastards. That being said, I could possibly consider bringing Deni/Denny into the story later. Maybe. I don't know. But she would be horribly off, so probably not.

Right. There's that. Um...I have to go breadboard my computer. It's still dead. Bought a liquid cooler, moved everything into a new (very nice) case because the cooler wouldn't fit in my old case (which means, I have new build material!), but it won't start up. No post. :( I'm hoping it's the power supply, but most likely not. I'm thinking I either damaged the motherboard during transfer (it's a risk) or the CPU cleaning the thermal paste off to swap the CPU fan with the liquid cooler. UGH! with my luck, it'll be both and I'll have to go out and buy a whole new everything (not everything, just mobo and CPU...knock on wood). My dad cursed it, saying I might as well do a new build. Jerk. I just got done building him a computer and my old build isn't even two years old. Fuck you, tech gods.

Rant over. See you all next Sunday!


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